Anger Management
by shadowarwen
Summary: In the week immediately following the Tri-Wizard tournament, Harry is having issues dealing with the death of Cedric. When his ever changing mood swings begin to concern the staff, Snape is brought in to ‘help’ Harry with his problems. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: In the week immediately following the Tri-Wizard tournament, Harry is having issues dealing with the death of Cedric. When his ever changing mood swings begin to concern the staff, Snape is brought in to 'help' Harry with his problems. AU.

A/N: Back in October, I did a contest on my Shadowarwen Yahoo Group regarding writing a Ghost Story for the Halloween season. The winner got to choose what type of story they wanted, and this is the product of that. The winner was Shoonasasi and she requested a story where Harry wasn't handling the death of Cedric very well and becomes angry. Also, Snape is enlisted to help. Shoonasasi, I hope you enjoy what I've written so far. There should be about 4 or 5 more chapters following this one.

………………………………….

"Mr. Potter, would you care to actually pay attention in my class? Or would you prefer to stay after to better understand the acidic tendencies of the potion you are currently brewing when it _eats through your skin_?!" hissed Snape, utterly frustrated with Potter's lack of attention for the umpteenth time that day.

It wasn't the words that got through to Harry, but the hateful tone in which it was delivered. He glanced up and met onyx eyes that more than likely wanted to bore into his head to discover his deepest, darkest thoughts. And how easy it would be, considering his mental state at the moment.

"Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, not actually sorry in the least. He had more dire thoughts on his mind, direr in fact, than the 'acidic tendencies of the potion he was currently brewing,' he thought nastily.

"Not sorry enough. You'll meet me tonight at eight for your detention, Potter. This makes…four this week, doesn't it Mr. Potter?" he asked, raising his brow as if calculating the exact number in his head. "No, allow me to correct myself. This makes five," he said mockingly, garnering a half-hearted chuckle from most of the class. Even his friends were becoming irritated with his constant detentions and losing points from their house.

Harry glared in return, and not just at Snape, before turning his seemingly wandering attention back to the potion in front of him. He made an actual attempt at keeping his focus for the remainder of the class hour and did manage to do it. Before long, class was dismissed and with a final scathing reminder from Snape to be in his class that evening or else, he walked from the room without looking back.

Out in the hall, it didn't take more than a second for his thoughts to drift to the subject it seemed to be perpetually stuck on these days: Cedric's death…and how it was his entire fault.

………………………………………………

"Where are you going, Harry?"

His attempt to ignore his friends was failing miserably as they came up behind him later that evening. He'd just wanted some time to himself. Was that so much to ask? Apparently his friends didn't understand him as much as he thought they should.

"I'm going to bed. Where are you going?" he asked in return, the sarcasm clear in his voice. He didn't want to deal with his friends right now. They should know what he was going through, but they just didn't get it.

"It's not even nine o'clock," pointed out Ron helpfully. "It's way too early for that, mate. Why don't we go and see what Dean and Seamus are up to? Or maybe we could go to the kitchens and get something to snack on before we do actually go to bed."

Harry shook his head. He knew Ron was trying to instigate him into doing something other than walking away alone. They were just trying to draw him out, but he didn't want to. Now wasn't the time. He wasn't ready yet.

"No thanks," he muttered, walking by them.

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled until he stopped.

"It's not your fault," she suddenly stated emphatically.

Harry stared at her as if she'd just spontaneously grown another head.

"Sure," he said noncommittally and continued to walk away. Or tried, at least. Hermione's grip remained firm on his arm and either he wasn't as strong as he thought he was, or Hermione was developing some serious upper arm strength.

"You're going to listen to me, Harry!" she yelled, tears starting to gather in her eyes.

Shocked from the sudden emotion in his friend's eyes, he almost found it in himself to start caring. But the feeling didn't last and the anger started bubbling up before he could stop it. This seemed to happen a lot…especially when people told him Cedric's death wasn't his fault. Yes, that's what Hermione had been talking about earlier. Cedric. Only, she didn't seem to get it yet. It was his fault. All of it was. Cedric would still be alive and kicking today if it hadn't been for Harry Freaking Potter.

Finding the strength he couldn't seem to gather earlier, Harry yanked his arm out of Hermione's hand with a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed out, and brushed passed her, again with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. Hermione nearly fell to the floor but Ron caught her at the last second.

"What is wrong with you!?" he heard them yelling after him, but again, he just didn't care.

…………………………………………….

Even he didn't quite understand why he was so angry all the time. It seemed a strange emotion to be feeling after what he'd been through, what he'd seen. He thought he should be experiencing other emotions…like sadness, grief, pain. However, the regret and the guilt which constantly flooded him were almost unbearable…and the anger seemed to be a way to push those feelings aside. The guilt was unimaginable. If he'd just taken the cup and left Cedric behind. Why did he always have to be so damn giving? So damn nice? That was his shortcoming, he'd finally figured out, and he wasn't going to let it get anyone else killed. He'd already lost one friend and he didn't plan on losing any others.

The end result wouldn't exactly be altogether pleasing, but he was willing to do whatever it took to keep his friends safe. And, as the anger seemed to constantly build and build, he discovered he felt less and less. It was as if the anger was just taking him over. And he didn't care to stop it.

…………………………………….

The next morning, Harry was up and out of the dormitory before the other boys' alarms had even considered going off. The hallways were dark and deserted and it was just as Harry wanted it. He didn't like having to deal with everyone else and their constant stares and contemplative looks. It was really the looks that were getting to him, too. They all were wondering how Cedric had really died and what part Harry had taken in it. Or so he thought.

And of course, it made him angry, as everything else these days was making him angry. He had only just recently gotten out of the hospital wing and there were, thankfully, just a few short days left before the end of term. He wouldn't have to put up with much more of people's crap for long.

He started heading for the Great Hall, thinking he might grab something to eat before classes began, but as he turned the corner, he saw Professor Snape standing up ahead, speaking with Professor Dumbledore in the corridor. He didn't want them to see him so he quickly and quietly went back the way he had come. Luckily, he wasn't seen and he made a quick trip to the kitchen instead.

Dobby was immediately at his feet as the portrait swung shut behind him. Harry felt the familiar annoyance creeping up in him and very neatly side-stepped the little elf and took a seat at a nearby table. Dobby didn't seem to notice his favorite person's untoward attitude.

"Oh, Harry Potter, sir. It is too early to be up! Harry Potter should be resting!" he said adamantly, but he was still getting a plate full of Harry's favorite breakfast foods ready as he spoke. He slapped it down on the table and shoved a fork in front of the teen. "Pumpkin juice?" he asked, but the glass was already full and in front of him before he could have actually made a decision.

Harry didn't speak to the elf and managed to eat a few bites of the extremely full plate before he shoved it away. Taking a small sip of the pumpkin juice, Harry gingerly placed the glass back on the table and stood to go.

Dobby moved in front of him and large concerned eyes peered into Harry's. "Don't you want more?" Dobby asked, trying to take Harry's hand to presumably lead him back to the table.

Harry shook the elf off. "No," he muttered angrily. The portrait swung open at precisely that moment and Harry quickly made his escape. He didn't see the disconsolate look on Dobby's face or the very determined one that followed.

………………………………………..

Harry spent an hour uselessly sitting in the library waiting for the day to begin. The other bad thing that went with getting up so early was the quiet, and the time it gave him to think. His thoughts were definitely on the utterly bad side as he found himself thinking about Cedric's dead body staring blankly up at him with eyes that would never look upon anything again. He thought about seeing his parents coming out of Voldemort's wand and everyone else that the evil little cretin had killed. He thought about how things probably would have been so much better for everyone else if he had just never been born.

All of his depressing and morbid thoughts came crashing to a halt as he heard footsteps out in the corridor. Someone was coming. Harry glanced at his watch and noticed how much time had passed since he'd been in there. Classes were set to begin any minute. People must have been walking passed the doorway for a while now and he'd been too deep in thought to notice.

He didn't have his bag or any of his books. His departure from the dormitory hadn't been very well thought out, he realized. And then it occurred to him. 'Why even go to class. It's not like anyone will care if I show up,' he thought bitterly. And that was precisely what he did. He skipped.

…………………………………….

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry groaned and even considered stomping his foot on the floor in his extreme irritation. The day was almost over and he'd thought he'd actually gotten away with it. And then here came the big, annoying abomination himself: Snape.

With deliberate slowness and with his aggravation showing clearly on his face, Harry turned to face his professor. His extremely angry professor. Inadvertently, Harry found himself moving backwards as all emotion slipped from his face.

"What?" he asked, disrespect obvious in his tone. In the back of his mind, he briefly recognized that he normally wasn't this suicidal. Honestly, provoking Snape's wrath wasn't something he would have normally done in a million years before his mysterious anger issues.

Snape advanced on him like darkness descending to never let the sunlight shine through again. Dramatic. Grabbing hold of Harry's arms, he surprised the teen by actually shaking him a bit.

"Your impudence is about to stop, Potter!" he yelled angrily, and started walking down the hall, having to practically drag Harry since he wasn't being cooperative at all. "I see you didn't attend any of your classes. And you had the audacity not to attend mine. Is the curriculum not good enough for you now, Potter? Is that it? You think that since you witnessed something horrible you can turn into a blathering little brat and get away with anything?! Well, think again, Potter!"

Harry snatched his arm out of Snape's grasp and turned on him.

"No, I'm quite thrilled with the curriculum, Snape. I've just discovered that there isn't any damn point!" he yelled, not caring what his professor had to say on the matter. He wasn't sticking around for anything the man had in mind. Most probable would be expulsion.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" he said, the words coming out almost in a hiss.

Not stopping for a second, not even considering it, which was very unlike him considering Snape's mood at the current moment, Harry continued on down the hall.

All suicidal tendencies aside, this was probably the best Harry had felt in a long time. It was the adrenaline, he figured, since he'd never even dreamed of doing something like this to an authority figure. Ever. And considering he could hear Snape's pounding footsteps on the stone floor coming after him, he was actually a little surprised that he wasn't a little more concerned for his own safety. Oh well.

He felt the hands wrap around his arms and then suddenly he was up against the wall with Professor Snape's glaring face inches from his own. Still, he felt nothing. Not even fear. Dimly, he wondered if something was wrong with him besides the obvious. Well, obvious in his own mind. He knew he wasn't dealing with what he'd experienced during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He knew he wasn't dealing with Cedric's death, and subsequently, pushing away his emotions was the way he was dealing with it. Which meant he wasn't dealing with it at all, as he had already pointed out to himself many times in the past two seconds.

So, even though he was most definitely staring down his own expulsion, as he'd never seen Snape look more pissed in his entire life, he really just didn't give a damn.

Words were spewing out of his professor's mouth, but he wasn't listening to him, but was listening too much to his own thoughts to pay attention to what he was saying. It was like Snape was talking but nothing was coming out. Sensation began to come back because he felt it as Snape grabbed his arms more powerfully and was almost surprised when he actually felt the pain as his back came into contact with the wall behind him rather forcefully. Ouch.

"Hey!"

Harry was aware now that apparently classes had let out. Or, at least, a portion of them, either that or just some of Gryffindor, because it appeared they were the only ones in the hallway. How interesting. He was rambling…his thoughts were rambling and he just didn't care. As per the usual.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The Gryffindors currently marching towards them like their own personal army about to embark on a rampage were mostly the guys from his own dormitory and the Weasley twins. Oh, and there was Hermione. Huh. As he realized who the group consisted of, he figured they must have been out looking for him. Perfect, he growled internally. Looking into their eyes, he could actually see outrage in them. That was new. They were normally looking at him as if he were mental and needed a hug. Or a straight jacket.

Then he realized the look wasn't for him. It was for the man roughly holding him against the wall. He'd momentarily forgotten he was there. He shook his head as if that would clear it and wondered if someone had slipped something into his drink earlier to make him feel so out of sorts. It was really disconcerting. But he knew that wasn't the real reason.

As wands were suddenly brandished and fighting positions were engaged, Harry knew this was becoming serious. Honestly, was this necessary? They looked like they were about to take on half the school instead of one teacher…granted, Snape was probably about to kick all of their arses, but that was beyond the point.

Snape gave a sarcastic roll of his eyes even though he was staring down a bunch of angry teenagers with wands. Then he let go and Harry was able to step away from the extremely uncomfortable wall he'd been leaning against. Harry brushed out his robes as if he was trying to straighten them only to have someone else grab hold of his robes and yank him away. This was getting old very fast.

Pushed behind a wall of Gryffindors as if he needed protection, Harry found himself rolling his eyes, almost in commiseration with Snape. What the hell? He didn't just think that. His thoughts were scattered and strange and rolling around in his head. Focusing, he realized he was numb to everything…well, except that pesky tinge of anger that kept popping up in his thoughts. He was annoyed that Snape had caught him, irritated that his friends thought he couldn't defend himself, angry that they had been obviously checking up on him, and just all around pissed off. Feeling rushed back and Harry wished he was comfortably numb again. That had been nice.

Ignoring the stand off behind him, Harry started down the hallway in the opposite direction. He needed some air. He'd make his way outside somehow.

"Harry, where are you going?" asked Ron, looking at him with deep concern.

"Is this the reason you've been acting out?" Hermione went into head-shrink mode and Harry found himself rolling his eyes again. "How long has this been going on? He can't treat you that way, Harry!"

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he continued walking. "He wasn't doing anything," he muttered, his thoughts turning dark once more. Seeing a flash of Cedric's eyes as they went from being lively and alert to suddenly being hauntingly dead. Nothing more…just dead. A shiver went up his spine.

"Harry!" she was becoming more adamant, especially upon seeing the shiver apparently. He hadn't meant to let that show. "You can't let other people abuse you! I know you probably think its normal because of your stupid relatives, but honestly Harry! Would you stop!" she was yelling now and spilling some of his background information without thought. That pissed him off.

"Do you mind keeping your nosy little thoughts to yourself, Hermione? Just SHUT UP!" he screamed.

"Potter! You're coming with me!" Snape had apparently had enough of the attitude.

"The hell he is!" and Ron was apparently just as protective as he was a few moments before, even if he did just rip into Hermione. It figured, especially when he didn't need his and his friend's considerable protective tendencies right at that moment.

"This is a school matter, Weasley, and unless you want to join your friend in expulsion, I suggest you make your way back to your dormitory! That goes for the rest of you as well!" yelled Snape. He pushed passed the group of students and made to grab Harry's arm.

Not in the mood to be man-handled once more that evening, Harry ripped his arm out of Snape's grasp and growled, "Don't touch me!" before stomping his way towards the Headmaster's office. If Snape wanted him expelled, so be it. He'd even hurry to process along if it would get him the hell away from everyone faster. Less than a week of school was left and he was already wanting out. That wasn't normal. He didn't want to go to the Dursley's, per say, but at least he'd be ignored there and not the center of attention like it was here.

Snape went after Harry, his robes billowing up behind him, his entire stance screaming anger.

Even with the threat of expulsion, Ron and company weren't about to let Harry be alone with a Professor who just obviously almost did personal bodily harm to him. With Ron in the lead, they stormed after the two of them.

……………………………………………

Harry flung open the door to Dumbledore's office, seemingly startling the man as a lemon drop fell from his hand as he hastily stood up.

"Harry, what is it?" he asked, coming around the desk. He'd never seen the boy look quite so angry before. It was very worrisome. Especially after all the talk he'd overheard his staff discussing in the halls. He never thought the day would come when Harry Potter, golden boy extraordinaire, skipped classes and mouthed off to his teachers. Now he thought there might just be a little credence to the rumors.

Before he could utter another word, Professor Snape and a band of Gryffindors stampeded into his office. Dumbledore eyed them curiously before offering them all a seat.

"Would anyone care to explain what is going on?"

Harry spoke up before anyone else had a chance. "I skipped classes, I got caught by Snape here," he pointed a harsh finger in said Professor's direction, "and…"

"Professor Snape, Harry," corrected Dumbledore.

"Oh, who gives a rat's arse if he's a professor or not! I'll call him whatever the bloody hell I please!" yelled Harry, and everyone else in the room gasped. Even Professor Snape. No one ever thought Harry would curse, let alone yell so vehemently at the Headmaster.

"Mr. Potter! Mind your tongue," hissed Snape, unable to fathom the boy's disrespect.

Harry just looked at the floor, only a little repentant. He was surprised to actually feel remorseful, even if it was just slightly. It wasn't something he was used to feeling as of late.

Albus sighed. "Please finish what you were going to say, Harry," he asked politely, hoping it would diffuse the sudden anger the boy had just exhibited. He simply couldn't fathom how angry he was. It should have been something he noticed sooner; however, as he had a sinking feeling, he knew where it was stemming from. And if that was indeed the case, something needed to be done.

"Fine…" he mumbled as if the entire situation was just putting him out. As if he had something better to do. "After Snape caught me in the corridor, I pretty much mouthed off to him and tried to walk away from him. He got angry and now he's going to try and get you to expel me," he said hatefully, leaving out a few details he wasn't really keen on sharing. Ron, however, was more than happy to fill in the gaps.

"Don't forget he had you slammed up against the wall with his hands wrapped around your arms so tightly I'm sure there are bruises by now!" he said, glaring hatefully at the older man. "How long have you been using him as your personal punching bag, Snape!?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore saw the look and motioned for Severus to explain. "Potter blacked out or had some kind of episode while I was attempting to tell him the error of his ways. I shook him a bit and he may have hit the wall inadvertently, but I assure you, Professor, I was not using him as my 'personal punching bag,' as Weasley puts it," he explained, glaring at the red-headed pain in his arse.

"Severus, even though Harry was having some type of issue, please refrain from shaking him in the future," rebuked Dumbledore.

Severus glared at the older man but nodded his consent. Honestly, Severus was sometimes irritable, and he sometimes used questionable tactics when dealing with his troublesome students, but he would never hurt them intentionally. This was something Dumbledore knew all too well.

"You can't believe him, Headmaster! You didn't see what happened in the corridor. Tell him, Harry! Tell him what happened!"

Once Hermione started in, Harry was half tempted to just get up and leave the office, no matter that he hadn't exactly been punished or expelled yet. Not that getting up and leaving could possibly make things worse than they already were. But, at that point, yelling sounded pretty good. And, since he was perpetually always angry, he decided right then was a good time to do it.

"Hermione!" he started, "Snape has not now nor has he ever hurt me in any way, shape or form! Now shut the hell up!"

"Harry James Potter! That is not the way we talk to other students in this castle!" Dumbledore was utterly shocked at Harry's behavior. "Especially since she is your friend! What in the world has gotten into you?"

"I'm the reason people keep dying! That's what has gotten into me!" he screamed.

Before anyone could stop him, Harry flew out of the door and down the stairs. Those still in the Headmaster's office could hear the echoes of his footsteps long after he was out of sight.

Albus lowered his head as he placed his hand against his heart. "Oh my," he couldn't think of anything else to say. Which was a first.

"We've got to do something. I'm so worried about him. He's never acted like this before, and I…I'm not sure what he'll do," whispered Hermione emotionally. "He's just so angry. It's not like him at all."

"And just what exactly is it that you're worried he'll do?" asked Snape, looking mildly interested in his student's behavior.

Hermione and Ron shared a look before a combined nod of their heads let the others in the room know they had decided to share their wisdom.

"We're worried he'll go after You-Know-Who. When he isn't storming around the common room or the dorms in a fit, we hear him muttering about how he should have stayed and killed him. So, it wouldn't be that far fetched to believe he'd go after him. Don't you think? And with summer holiday coming up, I just don't think it is going to be a good idea to let him go back to his abusive relatives so all he can do is think about what he should have done. Because I'm afraid he'll try to go and do it…kill You-Know-Who." She laid their thoughts out on the table and let the only two adults in the room decide what should happen.

Dumbledore seemed deep in thought and Snape just looked like he'd known all along that Harry had been feeling that way, which made Ron want to roll his eyes and glare.

"Can't Harry come and stay with us at the Burrow?" Ron threw his two cents in. "I mean, he'd be safer there…well, in the sense that he won't have all day and all night to actually think about putting anything he might plan into motion. We could keep an eye on him. And you know…he'd get to eat and stuff."

Snape was becoming more and more confused the more the two talked. "Would he not get to eat at home?" he asked sarcastically, thinking the two of them were just being idiotic. It wasn't like it would be the first time.

Ron really did glare then. "No. Why would they feed him? They hate him."

Shaking his head, Snape didn't really pay any more attention to them. He assumed Potter had laid it on thick one night to his friends about how pitiful his life with the muggles was. He wasn't going to listen to more of the brat's drama. No one would treat Potter any less than a hero. Especially not his relatives. The boy's relatives were probably just strict and after spending months on end where he got away with everything, he had to gripe and moan when he got back home at the idea of doing any sort of chore. Severus was sure of it.

"I'm sure Mr. Potter will be just fine at home," started Snape. He definitely didn't want Albus to get any ideas in his head about letting the brat stay at the school. He absolutely refused to deal with the child on more than the normal school term basis.

"Actually, I believe they might be correct about this, Severus. If he's at home, he'll be more inclined to think of ways to escape the house and steal out to do only Merlin knows what. If he decides to go after Voldemort, it will be only a matter of time before he tries it. We simply can't take the risk."

Severus sighed. Of course Albus would fall for it. Now the boy was going to be running around the castle all summer long, because he knew Albus would never let Potter beyond the protective wards of either the school or his own home. The Burrow was out of the question.

"So, he can stay at my house?"

Dumbledore sighed at the hopeful lilt in the red-head's voice. "Unfortunately, it wouldn't be safe for you and your family, or Harry for that matter, if he stayed at your home. I'm truly sorry, Mr. Weasley."

Ron shrugged his shoulders disappointedly. Honestly, even though he would love to have Harry over most days, the idea of having the moody individual who had taken over the Harry he knew and could get along with, wasn't all that appealing.

"That's okay, I guess. But, where is he going to stay then? Here?"

Hermione seemed to be rather thrilled with that idea, but Ron couldn't fathom why. Oh wait…yes he could. It was a school with a massive library. Any normal person would have run screaming in the other direction at the idea of spending their summer holiday stuck in a school. But, Hermione wasn't normal. So, that explained it.

"That is something I need to discuss with Professor Snape in private. If you all would excuse us?" Dumbledore politely showed them to the door, though Ron couldn't understand why he would need to talk to Snape about Harry staying.

As the door shut behind the Gryffindor's, Snape started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I have the feeling I know precisely where this conversation is going," he said hatefully. He knew the Headmaster all too well. He was a scheming and diabolical old man. And, he was going to get his way. He always did.

"Severus, I'm sure you don't," the older man smiled gently at him.

"Oh, I'm sure I do," muttered Snape, and he settled uncomfortably into the chair behind him. "What am I supposed to do with him?"

Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised that he had guessed. "Keep him occupied and…talk with him. You both have very turbulent pasts. You have more in common than I'm sure either of you wished to. But, nevertheless, I believe the two of you could get along if you only tried."

Becoming nearly as angry as he figured Potter had become as of late, Severus growled, "Have you forgotten what else you have already asked me to do? How can I possibly take care of Potter if you expect me to reintegrate myself into Lord Voldemort's ranks? I'd be killed as soon as anyone discovered it. And believe me, with Potter staying in my home, it wouldn't take anyone long to figure it out. And if it wasn't death, you know what he would ask of me! Have you gone completely daft? I can't have the boy in my home without risking death or simply being forced to give the boy to him. I highly doubt that would be what you had in mind for keeping Potter's thoughts away from attacking the Dark Lord!"

It was fairly obvious that Albus had thought of this as well, as the next thing he said nearly shocked the life right out of the younger man. "You won't be going back to him. At least, not yet."

Struck speechless, Severus could only stare. "What?" he asked numbly a moment later. "Is Potter now more important than getting any pertinent information out of the Dark Lord? You remember how it was back then! How many lives will be lost because I'm being forced to stay at home and pamper the little Potter brat?!" he finally yelled.

"You know there are other ways to retrieve that information, Severus. And, as a matter of fact, I believe Mr. Potter is more important. If we have any chance in hell of surviving this war, we're going to need Harry. And, right now isn't the time for the boy to act," Dumbledore's voice was steel and Severus knew the man meant every word he said and there would be no contradicting him. "Furthermore, you will do this for me. And you will do this for Harry. And yourself."

Feeling like he had somehow let the Headmaster down, Severus nodded his head in agreement. He would do this duty. "Very well, Headmaster. When shall I let him know?" he asked. Deep down inside where he wouldn't let any of his emotions show, Severus was very much looking forward to telling the brat this lovely information.

"Tomorrow, after the last class has ended. You will take him with you to Mountain Lake Island. The lighthouse and cottage still stand, do they not?"

Severus sighed. "Yes, I believe so. But, I'm sure it is practically in ruins by now. My family hasn't lived there in centuries."

"Well then, I can assure you that will be one way to keep Harry occupied. He will help you restore it to its original condition. And he won't do all the work, Severus. You will help him."

That was a bit of a low blow, in Snape's opinion. As if he would make a child work completely alone on restoring that place.

As if sensing the man's irritation in mass quantities, Albus apologized. "That was ill of me to say, Severus. I know you wouldn't treat the boy that way. However, I do want you to promise me you will keep your temper in check when dealing with him. If you don't think you can handle him, I need you to let me know immediately."

"I can definitely handle him, Albus. Make no mistake."

"Very well, I suggest you get packing then. And do try and break it to him gently," he said, locking his eyes on Severus' and not letting go. "Don't make him more upset than he already is. You know as well as I that he will not appreciate this at first."

"I won't piss him off, if that's what you're saying."

Albus raised his brow. "Do try not to."

Severus smirked. "I won't."

……………………………………………

A/N: Just so you know, if it seemed like the rest of the Gryffindors weren't in the Headmaster's office even though I had written them all storming into it…that's because they just really weren't that important at that juncture. So, just imagine they were really quiet, okay? But, they were there.

Also, Snape won't always be a bastard…keep that in mind.

And…my stories aren't complete without angst…so, this will be chock full of it. Eventually. I Love angst.

Remember, Harry is going to be out of character for a while, because he's an ANGRY little fella! This is how he is dealing with his grief at the moment. That will eventually change.

As always, please review to let me know what you think….love it, hate it…whatever.

Next chapter should be up in about 2 weeks.

Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He didn't hear what he was just told. It just wasn't possible. There was no way in hell that Snape would willingly take him for the summer. This must be some sort of sick joke.

But, the Professor still stood there as if he were serious. And, why would Snape joke about something like this? This would probably be like a death sentence to the man.

"Dumbledore is making you take me, isn't he?" he finally managed to blurt out.

Snape glared. "I don't do anything I don't want to do," he said angrily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like you really want to do this," he answered back sarcastically. "You and I both know that's not true. What's the real reason?"

"It's really none of your business, Potter. I will tell you, however, that the Headmaster feels it is in your best interest if you come with me over the holidays instead of your relatives." He figured Potter would do better with at least a little information. Maybe he wouldn't be so dramatic otherwise.

"So, Dumbledore did make you," Harry smirked. Snape glared.

"Let's get a few things straight, Mr. Potter. While you're under my roof, you will desist with this horrendous attitude you have taken on this past week."

"I'm not under your roof," Harry shot back.

"As of this moment, no, you're not, but you will be come tomorrow morning. Keep in mind that I can make your life a living hell."

"And what if I don't want to go with you? You can't make me."

Severus gave Harry a look that said quite plainly that he could make him if he wanted to.

"The Headmaster has the ultimate decision on where you stay, Potter. I don't think even all of your whining could dissuade him from his decision. You're stuck with me for the remainder of the summer holidays. And _**you will behave**_ while in my home."

Harry didn't say anything more after that, feeling at least a little bit of self preservation might be in order.

Severus walked away, thinking he'd done a fairly good job at breaking the news to the little brat. Albus would probably say he could have done it with a little more decorum, but at least he didn't piss the boy off too much. Smirking at the look that was still on the brat's face, he turned the corner and headed down to the dungeons. He had things to prepare.

_amamamamamamamamamam_

"You can't be serious!"

A bowl of lemon drops were about to take an impromptu trip through the air in about five seconds. Harry couldn't believe Dumbledore would do this to him. Snape? What was he thinking? They got along about as well and he and Draco Malfoy got along, which was not at all. Staying with his most hated and despised professor was going to absolutely suck.

"Harry, you and Professor Snape have more in common than you think you do. Once you get to know each other, I'm sure you'll both enjoy each other's company," persuaded Dumbledore.

"Yeah, right! I don't want to stay with him, Headmaster! Just let me go to the Dursley's!" Harry never thought those words would willingly slip from his lips. Yet they were.

Albus shook his head and locked gazes with the boy. "Harry, honestly, I don't believe staying with the Dursley's is in your best interest. I know they don't always treat you as they should."

Harry scoffed. "Now you care? And what makes you think staying with Snape is in my best interest? We hate each other! It'll be worse than if I had stayed with my relatives!"

"I highly doubt that, Harry. I know for a fact that Professor Snape will take care of you," he said, looking down at his folded hands. "I know you and Severus don't always see eye to eye, and there have been some altercations at times, but I think if you just gave him a chance, you'd find your Professor isn't as evil as you presume."

Sighing heavily, Harry could tell he wasn't going to be able to talk the Headmaster out of his asinine idea. "What if things don't work out?" he asked, knowing they wouldn't. "You're not going to make me stay there if he tries to kill me, are you?" A little drama never hurt.

"He's not going to kill you, Harry. But, I will be checking in on the two of you every now and again, and if it looks like either of you are in imminent danger, I will take action," he promised.

Having made his case and lost, Harry nodded dejectedly and stood from the chair he'd been directed to when he'd first stormed into the Headmaster's office. The upcoming summer wasn't looking as pleasant as he had hoped. And considering he had planned on being locked in his bedroom all summer long that was saying something.

_amamamamamamamamam_

Friday morning dawned bright and sunny without a cloud in the sky. Harry thought it was the direct opposite of how he was feeling, which kind of annoyed him…a lot. He almost thought he'd wake up to rain clouds, thunder and lighting. Maybe even a hurricane or tornado strength winds. No such thing happened. Almost disappointed, Harry sat up and started the tiresome task of dressing and packing the last of his things.

It didn't take long and all too soon he found himself standing on the Hogsmeade Station platform and watching as his friends got onto the train and disappeared from sight. Seeing as how he wasn't talking to any of them, no one even came to say good bye. It had seemed for a very short moment that Hermione was going to come and do so, but Ron grabbed her arm and the idea was waylaid. He didn't know why he felt disappointed.

When Snape came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder to nudge him into moving, Harry roughly shook it off and started walking. Whether he was going in the right direction or not, he honestly didn't care. Though, apparently, he was as Snape followed behind him. At one point, Snape did have to point him in the right direction, as they had come into Hogsmeade and the crowded area had determined to make him rely on Snape for direction.

"Where are we going exactly?" he asked, shoving his hand in his pocket and rummaging there, feeling his shrunken belongings. "And how long is it going to take?" he asked petulantly, feeling put out that he even had to do this.

"We're going to my home, as you already know, and it will take less than an hour once we get to the apparition point," he said with little patience.

Harry growled low in his throat. He was already getting irritated and he honestly wasn't sure why. "But where is your _home_?" he asked, spitting out the last word as if it were something disgusting.

"It's none of your business, Potter. You don't need to know its location, so stop your whining and keep up!" he said heatedly, and Harry felt his own steam rise.

"Stop talking to me like I'm nothing!" he yelled, his loud voice making a couple who had been sitting outside at a café stop what they were doing and look at them worriedly.

Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder, gave the couple an exasperated look, and pulled the boy into a nearby alley.

_Yeah, that couple isn't going to be suspicious at all_, thought Harry sarcastically. They probably thought Snape was beating him to death this very moment. It would serve the bastard right if he started screaming in fake agony. He didn't though, he wasn't that immature.

"What?" he asked, once again ripping his arm out of the man's grip. "Do you always have to man-handle me wherever we go?" he asked, rubbing the appendage as if it hurt, when it really didn't.

"Yes, Potter, it is my life's ambition to man-handle you whenever we are out in public," he replied just as sarcastically as the boy had been speaking to him earlier. "Now, stop behaving like a spoiled little brat and do as you're told for once in your life!" he said through clenched teeth. "I've about had it with your attitude."

"Yeah, well, you'd better get used to it because you're stuck with me for the entire summer and I doubt it's going to go away any time soon!" he yelled back.

Snape had to restrain himself from grabbing the boy's arms again. "Potter, keep your tongue inside your mouth until we get to the house, or so help me, I will make sure it stays shut!" he said venomously, brandishing his wand to let Harry know he meant business.

Glowering and giving Snape the look of death, Harry slammed his mouth shut and started stalking out of the alley. It was at that point that Snape grabbed his arm again and Harry about came unglued.

"Calm yourself, Potter!" he said vehemently, "This is where we are to apparate," he explained.

_Oh._

"Fine," he muttered, before looking with just a little trepidation at the man with the wand still in his hand. Snape didn't seem inclined to follow through with his earlier threat, so Harry relaxed a bit.

"Take my arm," instructed Snape.

"What?" asked Harry, taking a step away and looking at the Professor as if he'd just lost his mind. "What the hell for?"

"Potter! Mind your tongue!!" he yelled, and that time Harry really thought he was going to hex his mouth shut.

"Sorry!" he said quickly, placing both hands over his mouth protectively.

Severus rolled his eyes heavenward. "Stop being so dramatic and take my arm as I have already asked you. It is necessary in order to apparate," he finally mentioned and the boy nodded.

_Why didn't you just say so, geez, _thought Harry.

Grabbing the man's arm, Harry held on tight, not sure what to expect. No sooner than he'd held on than Harry felt the air around him dissipate and suddenly he felt weightless. A moment later, his feet were back on solid ground and he looked around at his new surroundings. There were trees and grass as far as he could see. In the distance, he heard the sound of water lapping against the shore, or so he assumed. He could also see smoke seeping through the tops of the trees somewhere up ahead.

"Is that your house?" he asked out of curiosity, pointing in the direction of the smoke.

"Yes."

Walking once more, Harry asked, "What's with the smoke? Is someone there?" he asked, expecting to be told about a house elf or something like that.

"No, I have a grounds keeper. He takes care of things while I'm away. He's probably burning the leaves or anything else that has gotten into the lighthouse while I've been away," he explained.

"If he's the grounds keeper, how come he let leaves and junk in there, anyways? Isn't it his job to keep the place clean?" he asked, curious as to what was up with the lighthouse. He couldn't imagine Snape living anywhere near a lighthouse, let alone in one. It just wasn't Snape.

"I haven't been out here in years, Potter. I gave Mr. Kirkpatrick leave if he so desired, and he took it. When I asked him to come back, he agreed."

Harry wasn't really interested; he had just wanted to see if he could get a rise out of the man. It hadn't really worked, so he continued walking in Snape's wake. After about a mile long walk, the trees finally started to clear and he saw the house appearing in front of him. It looked more like a cottage really; again, not something he envisioned Snape ever stepping foot in. There was a walkway that led off to a small lighthouse. Just behind the lighthouse was a steep drop off that fell into the ocean.

He wasn't sure where they were, since Snape hadn't deemed it necessary to tell him, but he felt a small measure of calm come over him at the sight and sounds of the waves.

The place wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It needed work, he could tell that just from where he was standing. As they got closer to the house, he saw a man walk up from behind it, which was where the smoke was coming from.

"Severus!" the man called and waved once at them. The as of yet unnamed man was slightly tall, probably just around the same height as Snape, which meant they both towered over Harry, with dark brown hair and a muscular build.

Professor Snape returned the gesture as the man came up on them.

"About time you got here," he said jovially. "I've got most of the house cleaned up, but the lighthouse is going to need some work," he started, "And who is this?" he asked, just noticing the teenager at the man's side. "You didn't mention having a guest."

Harry didn't think it was any of this man's business if he was going to have a guest or not, but he figured that was his not altogether rational side talking.

"This is Harry," he said without further ado. "He'll be staying with me for the summer."

Kirkpatrick looked surprised at this information, but Harry assumed it was because Snape never had any company and it was just shocking the hell out of the man.

"Well, I guess an extra set of hands around here won't hurt," the man said and Harry glared at him in irritation.

"I'm not here to be your slave," he said suddenly, indicating both of them with his glare. "I'm not even here because I want to be," he continued, his voice rising in indignation at the looks on their faces. "And you've got another thing coming if you think I'm going to be the only one doing any work around here!"

He envisioned himself doing all the chores and cleaning just like when he was with the Dursley's. Well, he wasn't going to be their own personal house elf, and he was going to make sure they both knew it up front.

"I said 'extra', kid, not the only set of hands that will be doing all the damn work," Kirkpatrick said with a look on his face that told Harry if he was his kid, he'd be getting smacked upside the head.

"I'm just saying," Harry reiterated. He started to stalk off towards the house before realizing he had no idea where he would be staying.

"Lost, Potter?" Snape asked with a grim smile on his face.

Harry glared. "Where am I staying?" he asked, his tone showing every bit of his disdain towards the entire situation.

"In the shed," said the other man. His tone made it sound like he was joking, but his eyes told a different story. For a moment, Harry's heart skipped a beat within his chest.

Severus didn't notice the interaction between the two, he'd only heard the inflection in the man's voice.

"I'll show you to your room, Potter," he said, his voice already strained and they'd only just arrived. He took Harry's arm without consideration and the boy roughly shoved it off.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" he spat, and stomped off towards the house.

"That kid needs some discipline, Severus," he heard them talking behind him and he assumed the man thought he was out of earshot.

_Yeah right._

"And he'll get it," Snape replied.

Harry glared at the defenseless house ahead of him. Snape could make this summer a living hell, as he'd already mentioned doing, but he was going to make sure to return the favor.

amamamamamamamamamamam

The house opened up into a small living area that branched off into the kitchen and a hallway that presumably led to the bedrooms and bathroom. His assumption proved correct when Snape led him down said hallway and opened the first door on the left.

"This is your room, Potter. You're to keep it neat and clean while you stay here," he ordered, motioning with his hand that Harry should enter.

He pointed down the hallway to a door on the right.

"That is my bedroom. Enter at your own peril, Potter," which in Harry's mind meant that if he went in there, he was going to die a painful death.

"Is that the bathroom?" he asked, his eyes locked on the door across from Snape's.

"Yes."

"Can I enter it without risking any peril?" he asked cheekily.

Snape intentionally grabbed Harry's shoulder and when Harry tried to shrug it off like all the times before, the man held on tighter.

"Enough with the cheek, Potter," he growled, his eyes glaring into Harry's own.

"Or what?" Harry somehow found the guts to ask.

"Or you'll spend the entirety of your time here doing nothing but your chores," he ground out between clenched teeth. Harry had the distinct impression Snape would make those chores nothing short of the hardest and most labor intensive chores he could imagine. He was also surprised Snape hadn't threatened him with imminent death.

"Fine," he snapped, and finally managed to yank himself out of the man's grasp.

Snape still seemed angry, but Harry wasn't too worried at the present moment. "Now, you're going to spend the rest of the day in your room," he started.

Thinking the man intended to keep him in there all day without a break made him start to worry, however. "But, I…"

Snape interrupted, "You're going to put away your things and straighten the place up to look at least presentable and lived in."

Looking at the room, Harry figured that would be an all day job. He'd definitely be rearranging and dusting if he planned to sleep in there that night.

"When I come to check on you in a few hours, I expect results, Potter."

Harry mouthed the words at Snape's back and almost stuck his tongue out at him, but he figured that might take the immature to the extreme.

He glanced around at the room, the first time all day he'd been alone, and immediately was flooded with the sights and sounds from _that_ night. Seeing Cedric's agonizing, condemning eyes, Harry hastened to work. Anything to keep his mind free from those horrible thoughts.

amamamamamamamamamamam

Later on that evening, Harry learned, to his annoyance, that Kirkpatrick would be staying with them. As if having one person in charge of him wasn't enough, now there was going to be this guy who thought he could tell him what to do.

As it turned out, Snape wasn't the one who ended up checking on his 'progress,' it was the grounds keeper. Like he had any idea of how a clean room should look. The thought wasn't all that nasty, but Harry's inner voice made it seem that way. For whatever reason, Harry hadn't quite figured it out yet, he just really did _not_ like the guy.

"How's it coming?" Kirkpatrick came into his room without even knocking. Strike one on Harry's, 'I hate this guy' list.

"It's coming," the sarcastic reply was out of his mouth before he could actually stop it. He knew he couldn't keep mouthing off, even though the temptation was almost too hard to resist lately, or he'd be spending his vacation cleaning. What fun would that be?

"You want to watch your mouth, you little brat!" the words were spat at him.

Harry looked up from making his bed in surprise, the sheets he'd been putting on the mattress without the luxury of magic fluttering uselessly to the bed.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his tone unintentionally becoming threatening. Like he could do anything to this man, Snape would throttle him.

"While under this roof, you will not speak to me with such a tone! Do you understand me?" the man took another step into the room, his stature starting to become menacing.

Without thought, Harry took a step backwards and immediately ran into the wall. The sudden impact brought him back to himself and he retook the distance he had lost.

"You can't tell me what to do," he said, sounding childish to his own ears. "This isn't your house."

"That doesn't matter, Potter. Severus is a friend of mine, and neither he nor I will tolerate your stubborn, annoying attitude. I demand respect, as does your Professor," he said.

Harry had a moment to wonder how the man knew Snape was his teacher and how he knew his last name. But that was a stupid thought. The man probably overheard Snape calling him Potter and it probably wasn't any surprise to him that Snape was a teacher.

"I'll show you respect when you show me some respect," Harry had the gall to reply.

"You don't get respect, Potter. You earn it."

Scoffing at the man's holier than thou attitude, Harry just glared at him, at a loss for words. He wasn't sure how to handle the man.

"Just get out of my room. And maybe you could knock next time, eh?"

Kirkpatrick was about to say something else, Harry could tell that just by looking at his face. But, at that precise moment, Severus walked into the room. His eyes skimmed over the room and then took in his friend's face. He saw the anger and the irritation showing clearly there.

"Potter," he said, clearly fed up with the boy's attitude and immediately contributing said attitude to his friend's look.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry defended himself.

"I highly doubt that," he answered.

Harry scowled. His summer vacation hadn't even gone past five hours and he already knew he was going to spend the rest of it doing 'chores.'

"You'll finish with your room and after you've had your dinner, you'll go straight to bed, Potter," Snape said wearily.

Harry was actually very surprised at the almost normal reaction he was receiving from Snape. It wasn't what he expected at all. He'd actually contemplated his punishments as being more along the lines of what he was made to do during detentions.

"You should make him go to bed without supper, Severus," Kirkpatrick threw in his two cents.

It wouldn't be the first time Harry had gone without food, so this wasn't necessarily a threat to the boy. But, he wasn't surprised the arse in front of him would come up with the idea.

"No, he'll eat," said Severus. Another surprise. "He'll need his strength for the work he'll be doing tomorrow."

Ah, so the torture would start tomorrow. Harry groaned.

"You brought it on yourself, Potter."

"I didn't do anything!" Harry reiterated. "If you'd believe me instead of that jerk!" he said, hastily pointing at the other man.

Snape looked honestly surprised. "Why would I believe anything that came out of your mouth, Potter?" he asked, his tone turning scathing.

Harry wasn't sure why he had thought he would either.

_amamamamamamamamamamam_

A/N:

The chapter lengths will vary, FYI. This one isn't horribly long, but I'm just setting up things here.

And, yes, Kirkpatrick will be a big fat jerk. A mean fat jerk. He's not really fat. He's muscular. Argh.

Anyways, please review and let me know what you think.

Shoonasasi, how is it? DID YOU LIKE IT????? Let me know. Don't worry, I do intend to incorporate almost everything into the story that we talked about.

This story is sooo going to be longer than 5 chapters…

REVIEW. I know you see the button…just push it and type something. You can do it. I know you can.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry woke with a strangled scream, his skin damp with cold sweat. Taking in gasping breaths, he tried to calm his breathing back down to something akin to normal. Glancing around the room, he half expected to see Cedric standing at the end of his bed, as he had in his dream, pointing an accusing, decaying finger at him. Feeling his heart still beating double-time in his chest, he started taking deep, calming breaths in the hopes that he would calm. Normally, especially in the dead of night, it took almost an hour before any semblance of calm returned to him. And then sleep would never return.

"Potter?"

Harry was embarrassed to note that he let out a startled yell at the sound and about fell off his bed when he saw someone standing in the door way.

"P-professor," he stuttered out. He wasn't ready to deal with anyone, he hadn't composed himself by a long shot, and here was Snape standing in his room, wanting an explanation.

"Is there a reason you decided to scream loud enough to wake the dead? It's not even three in the morning, Potter. I would actually like to get some rest this evening," the man said scathingly, obviously tired and irritable. A normal attitude for the man.

The scathing tone brought out Harry's inner ire and it was just what he needed to pull the wool over Snape's eyes. Nothing was wrong here, nope, nothing at all.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed your precious sleep," he said derisively. "Why not just do yourself a favor and put a silencing spell around my room. That way you won't have to deal with me."

Severus gazed at the boy intrusively. "Why, so I won't have to hear your screams every night? Is this your way of saying you are having nightmares?" With arms crossed against his chest, Snape waited for an answer.

"That's not the reason, actually. I'm just attempting to make it so I don't disturb you and you don't disturb me by coming into my room at all hours of the night," he flippantly remarked. "So go on back to your room and leave me alone!"

Highly unconvinced, Snape locked his gaze on the boy's and Harry suddenly felt another presence in his own mind. He tried to pull away, but the man was already inside his head, seeing what it was he had just dreamed. "Stop it!" he yelled, breathing hard when Snape finally broke contact. "What the hell! You had no right to do that!" A moment's pause, "What was that?"

"It's called Legilimency," Snape intoned flatly.

"And what the heck is it? Did you just read my mind?" he asked, clearly getting more and more upset. "You had no right to do that! It's my head!"

Severus looked down on the boy still sitting up in bed and gave him a look that clearly showed he didn't care. "It's the ability to extract memories and emotions from another's mind, since you asked."

"Well don't do it anymore!" Harry yelled, making a point to not look the man in the eyes. It made him feel extremely vulnerable, knowing the man could invade his head any time he wanted to. It also made him extremely mad. How dare he!

"I'll do it if I feel it necessary," he said without regard to Harry's feelings. "As you obviously showed just now, you are in need of some type of assistance, since you are having nightmares, yet you refuse to ask for it."

"Like I'd ask for help from you!" Harry stood from the bed and grabbed his night robe, throwing it on over his shoulders. "You can bet I'll be letting Professor Dumbledore know about this when he comes!" he threatened, hoping it would make Snape reconsider doing it in the future. He knew the Headmaster would let him go home once he found out what happened.

"Don't expect too much, Potter," Snape replied emotionlessly.

Harry resisted the urge to give the man a very unpleasant hand gesture.

_amamamamamamamamamamam_

The next morning was once again unreasonably bright and sunny, at least, to Harry it was. To say he wasn't looking forward to what he would have to do that day would have been an understatement. He'd been thinking most of the night about what the 'chores' would be and had therefore not gotten hardly any rest at all. And, considering Snape had said he'd need his rest, Harry figured today was going to just suck.

Once he had showered and gotten ready for the day, he stepped out into the living room hoping for some sort of breakfast. Based on the lack of noise in the house he concluded that no one else was inside. Pulling back the curtain on the kitchen window, he glanced outside and immediately caught sight of the lighthouse. Kirkpatrick was standing outside, looking up at the sky, and apparently just enjoying a peaceful moment or something equally mundane.

Harry looked, but he couldn't see Snape anywhere. Thinking the man was still in bed; he walked back down the hallway and stood outside of the man's bedroom door, contemplating whether or not to knock. The door was slightly ajar, as it so happened, and he could see the edge of the man's bed from where he stood. It was obvious he wasn't still sleeping and Harry would have been honestly surprised if he had been. It was early in his estimation, but not by what Snape would consider early, or so he assumed.

Walking back into the kitchen, Harry glanced out the window once more. Kirkpatrick was just walking back into the lighthouse, where the man was staying, he'd discovered, but there was still no sign of Snape. Figuring he would grab something to eat, he noticed there was cereal waiting on the counter. Opening the ice box, he got out some milk and poured himself a bowl. He ate it quickly, going into 'chore' mindset as it were, because at the Dursley's there wasn't any time to sit down and eat when chores were to be done. If they let him eat at all, that was.

As he walked outside he saw Kirkpatrick coming back out of the lighthouse.

"About time you got up," he yelled across the walkway at him.

Harry didn't feel the need to grace the man with a reply, as it would just be nasty and would most likely get him into more trouble.

"I see you're more quiet today," the man observed and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for noticing," he couldn't help but say, but kept his tone light. "What am I supposed to do?"

He looked around curiously, still trying to locate Snape, but glanced back around when he felt the man finally reach him.

"Where's Snape?"

"He went into the village to get some supplies," he said by way of answer. "He left me in charge of getting you started on your chores," he added and Harry resisted the urge to groan.

If anything, Kirkpatrick would probably give him even more complicated work than Snape would. This was just based on the fact that he disliked this man more than he disliked Snape, which was slightly strange. There was just something about him that set his blood to boiling.

"Fine, where do I start?" he asked, heading back towards the house figuring he'd be starting there.

"The lighthouse," he said, stopping Harry in mid-stride.

Harry sighed and headed back towards Kirkpatrick and passing him, went on down the walk-way that led to the lighthouse.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "You'll want to get some supplies out of the shed first," he mentioned casually, and Harry was reminded of the man's words from the previous day about keeping him in the shed.

He nodded uncertainly, walking towards the building behind the house.

"What will I need?" he asked, opening the door to the building when he reached it. Right away he gratefully noticed there wasn't a lock on the door, meaning he couldn't be locked in, at least not without magic, he thought worriedly.

It would stand to reason that the man wouldn't lock him in the shed considering he was putting him to work, but it didn't mean he wouldn't try to do it later. Maybe as a punishment if he ticked the man off. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to control his mouth lately. And Kirkpatrick seemed like the sort of fellow who was irritated easily.

"What exactly do I need?" he asked again as the door swung open before him. The shed was filled with things he would expect to see in a Muggle shed, things he'd seen in his own Uncle's shed, actually. "Are you…?" he trailed off, trying very hard not to say something rude here. But, he had the distinct impression that the man had no magical ability.

"Yes, Potter, I'm a squib," he answered dryly. "Now grab that shovel there and those bags there on the side wall," he instructed.

Harry resentfully grabbed said items and was finally allowed to make his way to the lighthouse. He wondered what it was he was supposed to do. And as his mind wondered, he found himself asking a question.

"Why would Snape want to have anything to do with a squib?" he asked.

For once, he wasn't trying to be rude or mean, it was just an honest inquiry. Snape wasn't exactly the type of person that would want to be friends with a non-magical person. And it was obvious they were friends, or at least it struck Harry that way.

Unfortunately, his innocently asked question was taken the wrong way by the man behind him. And a moment later he understood his error as the man grabbed him by his hair and shook him. Dropping the shovel and bags, Harry reached up and grabbed onto the man's wrists to get some leverage.

"What is wrong with you!" he yelled, pinching into the man's skin, causing him to let go.

"How dare you say such a thing!" Kirkpatrick yelled, and actually went so far as to smack Harry across the face. "You know nothing about him!"

Harry stumbled backwards, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. "Look, I didn't mean any offense!" he said, holding his hand to his stinging cheek. It hadn't really been a hard hit, but it stung nonetheless.

"I'm sure!" he countered sarcastically. "From now on, you will keep your mouth shut and mind your manners! I've had it with you! Do you understand! I've had it!"

Harry nodded and continued to put distance between them. "I'm sorry," he said, but not very sincerely.

"You will be if you don't straighten up!"

Harry took the threat as it was given, intending fully to stay out of the man's way. He seemed a little unbalanced to the boy and almost as if he was trying to protect Snape or something. Obviously the man didn't realize his Professor didn't need protection of any shape or sort, and if he thought Snape would actually do something about it, he would probably tell his teacher what had transpired. But, he knew Snape only all too well, and was fairly certain the man wouldn't care. Would in fact probably think he deserved it. There was always the fall back of telling Dumbledore, he reasoned, that was if the man ever came to check on them like he'd promised. It had only been a day, but he'd been hoping for a swifter visit.

Kirkpatrick directed him back to the lighthouse and literally shoved him in the door. He saw immediately what the man intended for him to do. At some point, either the ground must have shifted, or perhaps vandals had come out and discovered the lighthouse, but whatever the reason, there were mounds and mounds of dirt covering what had used to be stone floors. He sighed in irritation. This would likely take all day.

"Stop your moaning and get to work," the man said without sympathy at the great task ahead of the boy. "And when you're finished shoveling all the dirt out, bag up the leaves and take them to the back of the house to burn. I'll come get you for a break later and don't you dare step foot outside of this room until I say so."

Harry stared in dismay as the man walked out the door, leaving him to his task.

In hindsight, he realized he should have asked for a pair of work gloves. The use of the shovel had caused blisters to form on his hands and it hurt. He'd been working for over four hours and he still didn't have all the dirt shoveled out of the place. He was tired, hungry, thirsty and sore.

"Potter," the boy put the shovel down on the floor and turned towards the voice, hoping for a break.

It was Snape and not Kirkpatrick who stood at the doorway. "It's time for lunch. Go clean up and come into the kitchen when you're finished," he ordered before walking back towards the house without waiting for Harry.

More than happy to oblige, Harry quickly ran after the man and into the kitchen once in the house. In the bathroom, he washed his hands and face, gingerly due to his sore hands and considering his extreme thirst, he even cupped his hands and took a few sips of the cool water.

He could hear Kirkpatrick out in the kitchen and sighed in annoyance. He had hoped the man had gone off somewhere and he wouldn't have to deal with him during their meal. Imagining what the man had told Snape about his attitude earlier, which hadn't really been an attitude at all, was beginning to make him worry. What if they set him to even harder tasks? He was already exhausted from what he'd done that morning.

Out in the living room, Harry noticed that things were much cleaner than they'd been this morning. He assumed Snape had taken charge of the house while he had been out in the lighthouse. He had no clue what Kirkpatrick had been doing with his time. Merlin knew he hadn't seen him for the past few hours. The man had probably been sitting on his arse somewhere all morning doing absolutely nothing. Just the same, it made him feel less irritated that Snape had apparently been doing some work, too. It still felt like he was getting all the hard jobs, but he wasn't going to complain about it. Yet.

As soon as Harry sat at the table, he and Kirkpatrick locked gazes and a stare down began. Harry was angry that the man had never come to give him a break. He'd been dying of thirst, or so it seemed, at one point and a nice tall glass of water would have been much appreciated.

The table was set for the three of them with a light meal of minestrone soup and salad. Harry wasn't all that interested in the vegetarian soup and instead started in on the salad. Quite frankly, something a little more hearty at that moment would have been just fine with him. He doubted a salad would fill him up and he wasn't interested in the soup at all. It looked downright disgusting. Knowing Kirkpatrick had fixed the meal made him believe he'd done it on purpose so he wouldn't get anything good to eat. Jerk.

He drank his glass of water, practically guzzling the entire contents he was so thirsty, before filling it up again and doing the same.

Looking up, he realized Snape was staring at him with some irritation.

"Potter, what are you doing?" he asked flatly.

"I'm drinking a glass of water, what does it look like I'm doing?" he returned sarcastically. He didn't even know why the man was bothering to ask. Shouldn't it have been obvious? He noticed Kirkpatrick was giving him the glare of death and sighed.

"I realize that," returned Severus just as sarcastically. "Why are you trying to drown yourself in it?"

Harry stared. Oh. "Well," he glanced at Kirkpatrick, thinking this would be his chance to let Snape know how the man was acting earlier. "Your friend over there said not to leave the lighthouse until he came to get me for a break," he started, noticing the man he was currently talking about was now decidedly angrier. "He never came to get me, and based…"

A sharp kick to his shin made him startle and stifle a yelp.

"I think the boy is quite capable of getting a drink for himself, with or without my permission," he said hastily, clearly trying to cover for himself.

Harry glared at him. "You seemed pretty adamant when you shoved me in the lighthouse this morning," he said with a smirk growing on his face. "Right after you smacked me around right before that." Unfortunately for Harry, his attitude and facial expressions weren't exactly making him believable in Snape's eyes.

When Harry saw the commiserating look passing between the two men he realized his mistake. Snape didn't believe him. Damn.

"I think it is time you went and finished your duty out in the lighthouse," said Kirkpatrick with a look in his eyes that said to Harry he would be getting a visitor sooner rather than later.

Snape agreed, showing Harry personally out the door and into the lighthouse. "I'm fairly confident a few more hours of hard labor should take the bite out of your attitude," he told Harry angrily. Roughly placing the shovel back in Harry's hands he spoke slowly and with intent. "You will finish shoveling out this lighthouse and then you will pick up the leaves as has been requested of you. Periodically," he added almost absently, "you may stop for a drink. After you are finished you will clean up and go straight to bed. Am I understood?"

Harry nodded dejectedly. After Snape had left the vicinity, Harry looked out the window and watched as the sun became hotter in the sky. He was going to have to escape. There wasn't anything else for it. He wasn't going to let Kirkpatrick push him around and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Snape boss him around. If it had just been himself and his teacher, he probably could have handled things. But, with Kirkpatrick around, he wasn't willing to take the chance. Again, he got the feeling there was something off about the man because anyone meaner than Snape had to have issues.

Unable to actually gather any supplies without getting caught, Harry made a run for the woods without any food or water to speak of. He knew there was a village around here somewhere. Hopefully, if he was going in the right direction he'd run into it or at least be able to ask someone for directions. Once he found it, he was pretty sure he could find someone who wouldn't mind him tagging along to apparate. Realizing what he was doing was just a little on the reckless side; he hoped he didn't run into anyone who would instead of taking him to the Dursley's, would take him straight to Voldemort instead.

It was a sad day when he was willing to risk getting caught by some of Voldemort's lackeys instead of staying to deal with an arse like Kirkpatrick.

The woods seemed different this time through, somehow thicker, he supposed, than when he'd traveled through them with Snape. Even hours later, it seemed like he was just going in circles instead of a straight line. He was almost positive he'd seen that same tree about a million times in the past two hours. It had an odd shape to it, almost like it didn't belong there, and he knew he couldn't be passing a tree that just happened to look like it as many times as he had. It just wasn't possible.

Irritated beyond imagination, Harry trudged up to it after passing it once again and plopped down on the ground in front of the tree. Leaning back against it, he used the rough bark to scratch his back in a spot that he hadn't been able to reach himself. It had been bugging him for the past few trips by, the itch, not the tree. That hadn't started to annoy him until just now.

It didn't occur to him until that moment that Snape had probably put some kind of ward up around his property that would hinder any escape he would try to attempt. Angry at his own stupidity and the fact that he was quite literally stuck there, he slammed his fists down on the ground in frustration, crushing some poor defenseless leaves in the process.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed loudly.

By the time Harry had given up to his defeat, it was closing in on five o'clock in the evening. Wherever in the world they were, the light was already beginning to fade, even though it was summer. A little disenchanted about the entire thing, Harry knew he should just head back to the house and apologize and hope for the best. But on the other hand, he was still angry and didn't want to have to deal with either man until absolutely necessary.

Of course, the longer he waited the worse it would be, or so he assumed. Honestly though, he just didn't care how angry they were at him. He was ten times angrier at them.

The downside to sitting out in the woods with nothing to do was the thoughts that suddenly seemed to pop into his head. And wouldn't you know it, the first image that hit him was Cedric and his accusing face. He shook his head violently, trying hard not to panic. It was his fault the older boy had died. If only he'd taken the cup himself. Was it so damn hard to be greedy?

But _if only's_ only got you so far…which was nowhere in his case. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it wasn't his fault…it was. And nothing anyone said could change that fact.

Before he knew it, the exhaustion from the day's activities and all the walking he had done while stuck in the woods conspired against him to put him to sleep.

'_Why'd you let me die, Harry?'_

_Cedric stood before him in the middle of the woods. The sky had grown darker and the diminishing light made the menacing teenager look all the more frightening. His rotting flesh was hanging from his limbs and Harry gagged at the stench that was enveloping the entire area. The trees themselves seemed to be absorbing Cedric's ire and their clawing branches reached out towards him, trying to grab him. _

'_I didn't, Cedric! I didn't let you die! Please believe me; I didn't know _he_ was there! Please!' Harry begged for forgiveness, but it seemed that Cedric was unwilling to give it. _

_As the branches from the trees all around him began to twist around his arms and legs, one wrapping around his throat and constricting until he lost his breath. He couldn't breathe! He felt another, thicker branch wrap around his arm, pulling him upright. _

'_Potter!' _

_Unable to see where the voice was coming from, Harry tried to glance around, tried gasping out a breath for help, but he simply couldn't. _

'_Potter!'_

_The branch around his arm suddenly clenched so painfully Harry yelped out loud and…_

"Potter, wake up!"

Harry came to awareness with a startled scream, unable to hold it in as he normally would have. His breaths came in short, gasping pants and he seriously thought he might have to vomit.

"Breathe, Potter. Slow down and take deep breaths," instructed the man behind him and Harry suddenly realized his teacher was holding his arm in a death grip. The pain he'd felt in his dream hadn't been from the branches, it had literally been from Snape grabbing him to shake him awake.

Taking the deep breaths as instructed, his heart finally stopped hammering in his chest and he pulled his arm out of Snape's grasp as he came back to himself. He felt extremely unbalanced in front of this man, having just woken up from a nightmare he would rather not have mentioned. And knowing Snape, he'd probably try that mind-reading thing again.

Refusing to make eye contact, Harry started walking back to the house.

"Where are you going, Potter?"

Harry stopped walking. "Back to the house?" it was a question, because he wasn't sure if his professor was going to let him come back. Maybe this had been the last straw and he was sending Harry home.

"And why did you leave it in the first place?" he asked calmly. Well, it sounded calm for Snape, but Harry thought there was a bit of impatience building up in the man's voice.

Already knowing the man wouldn't believe him regarding Kirkpatrick's treatment from earlier that morning, Harry spun on him with the other obvious reason. "Because you two think you can order me about like I'm some kind of house elf!" he started in on the man. "I'm not here to do all the work! I thought I'd at least get to spend some time doing things I want to do. But no, I'm out in the lighthouse all day doing hard labor practically and not allowed any breaks!"

"I do believe I told you to take breaks periodically, Potter," Snape found it necessary to interrupt.

Harry glowered at him. "That's not what I meant. I meant from earlier, when Kirkpatrick was doing guard duty," he said angrily.

"Enough with the dramatics regarding Edwin, Mr. Potter, as I've about had it with your selfishness and your lies!" Snape towered over Harry and if he was feeling uncomfortable before, it was nothing to the feeling rippling through his body now.

"I'm not lying!"

"I can't hardly believe that, Potter, considering the way you've been acting lately. It's not as if you've been reliable and trustworthy these past few days. Even at Hogwarts you were being sarcastic and rude, especially to those you call friends. If not even they can believe you, then how do you expect me to?" Snape was apparently trying to give him some version of a guilt inducing reprimand, but Harry didn't think it was working.

He didn't feel guilt, like he suspected Snape thought he should. And he still felt anger more than any other emotion. It wasn't like him, he knew this, but any attempt to stop it just wasn't forthcoming. He didn't want it to stop. Because when it stopped…he was afraid of the emotions that would engulf him.

"Potter, you must find another way to deal with your emotions," Snape suddenly interrupted his train of thought. It was seemingly as though the man had known what he was thinking and when he realized Snape was looking right in his eyes, he knew that was precisely what had happened. Frighteningly enough, he hadn't even felt the intrusion.

"I asked you to stop doing that," Harry said venomously. "Why can't you do one single thing I ask?"

Snape grabbed Harry's shoulders and held him firm when the boy tried to get away. "When you start behaving like a well mannered teenager instead of a spoiled rotten brat, then I will perhaps do as you've requested. Until then, keep in mind that your thoughts are no longer your own."

Without another word, Snape started back towards the house as Harry stared after him in an odd paradox of anger and fear. Finally sighing in resignation, Harry started walking after him, knowing he'd need the man's sense of direction to get out of this continuous loop he'd been walking in. When he realized he'd apparently been no farther than a mile from the house the entire time he'd been gone, irritation and a slight embarrassment settled into him. He wondered if Snape and Kirkpatrick had known where he was the entire time.

And speaking of Kirkpatrick, Harry smirked internally at the man's first name. Edwin…he thought it sounded more like the name someone would give a pet, not a living person. It was a random thought, as if he couldn't find anything better to insult the man with. At any rate, Harry didn't like the man and that apparently went hand in hand with hating the man's name, as well, along with anything else Kirkpatrick did.

Back at the house, there was still a glimmer of light left in the sky, oddly, and Harry found himself being put back to work in the lighthouse until he had at least finished the first floor of the place.

Mumbling to himself about how unfair it all was, because he didn't want Snape to hear him complaining and attempt another trip inside his head, he tried to keep everything to himself.

Harry hadn't shoveled more than five scoops of dirt before he sensed Kirkpatrick standing in the doorway.

"What do you want?" he asked without looking at him.

"Where were you all this time?" the man asked.

Harry glanced up at him in a bit of surprise. Perhaps they hadn't known where he was. He highly doubted that though. He rethought his idea that just Kirkpatrick hadn't known. It was simply unbelievable that Snape hadn't known. Harry got the distinct impression that Snape would know everything about his own home. And the goings on at his own home…especially when concerning his current pain in the arse charge. Harry figured the wards around the house, which also kept him from escaping, would also let Snape know where he was every second of every day. Damn.

"Out," he muttered.

"Out where?" Kirkpatrick had come completely into the lighthouse and was standing over the boy as he continued to shovel.

"In the woods, where else would I be?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps trying to make it to the village?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly make it there, now did I?"

"Obviously not," the man stated, "and you're not to attempt this foolishness again."

Harry scoffed. "Look, I'm here because the Headmaster of my school is making me. I'll only do what Snape tells me to do, and that's only if I bloody well feel like it. As for you, you're not the boss of me and I don't care what you do, I won't do a damn thing you tell me to!"

Seeing the livid expression now developing on the man's face, Harry took a precautionary step backwards.

"Don't you ever speak to me in that tone again!" he practically hissed through clenched teeth. "And while you are under Severus' roof, you will do as both he and I tell you or face the consequences!"

Harry wasn't daunted by the man's outburst. "I won't," he stated emphatically. "I won't listen to you."

"After everything Severus has done for you..."

Harry snorted out loud. "What has he ever done for me but cause me grief?" he yelled. "You know nothing about how he treats me. He's an evil little bastard is what…"

Revisiting the temperament from that afternoon, Harry found himself on the floor after Kirkpatrick had slapped him across the face so hard he lost his footing.

"How dare you speak of him that way!" the man yelled, advancing on the downed boy. "He's a better man than you'll ever be, you can bet your boots!"

Harry, still smarting from the blow he'd taken, finally started to recognize the looks and mannerisms the man was showing towards Snape. It had been staring him in the face the entire time, but he hadn't seen it. The weird way Kirkpatrick was always talking about Severus like he was special. Like he was the only one who really knew him. Harry probably hadn't wanted to see it. Gross.

"You fancy him."

It was a statement and apparently the wrong one. Kirkpatrick was suddenly on him, landing three swift blows to the boy's abdomen, causing sick pain to engulf his stomach. Harry rolled over on his side and tried hard to control the pain, moaning and gasping with the effort. As tears trickled down his face he felt the man suddenly hovering over him and he tensed in the anticipation of more pain.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said harshly, grabbing Harry by his shirt and hauling him to his feet.

Not steady by a long shot, Harry started to tumble back to the floor, but Kirkpatrick roughly grabbed his arms and held him upright by sheer force alone.

"Don't you dare repeat to him what you just said to me," he hissed, shaking Harry with each word. "This is going to be between just you and me, understand?"

Harry thought the man knew Snape wouldn't keep him around if he knew the truth, and based on the fact he thought Snape wasn't interested in having a relationship, with a male or a female regardless, he thought Kirkpatrick was barking up the wrong tree.

"O-okay," he whispered, unable to get more breath than that since it had been knocked out of him.

He'd never imagined it would hurt this badly, to be hit like this. Every now and again his Uncle had slapped him around a bit, but never full out punched him like this. His stomach felt swollen and tender and he really wanted to go lay down, but the man was still forcibly holding him upright by his shirt.

Finally, he dropped Harry, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap of agonized pain.

"And one more thing, Harry," the man got down on his knees and looked him in the eyes. "You'll do precisely what I say unless you want some more of this," he muttered darkly.

Trying to scoot away from the menacing form above him, Harry wasn't prepared for the fourth punch of the night, striking him directly in the same spot as before.

Harry cried out, arching his back, while letting out a pained whimper. He took in gasping breaths of air after that, simply unable to regain the air that his lungs so desperately wanted. And he cried. He hadn't thought it was possible, even after Cedric died he hadn't cried, but now he was. And it almost hurt in a different way that Kirkpatrick had been the one to cause the tears he hadn't been able to cry for his friend.

"Do we understand each other now, Harry?" he asked as he stood up and straightened his clothing.

He looked out the window, apparently making sure Snape hadn't seen or heard anything, before glancing back down at the boy below him. He caught Harry's eyes.

"Do we?"

Harry nodded in the affirmative, unable to even talk yet, and nearly came out of his skin when the man knelt down beside him again.

"And not a word of this to Severus, either, Harry. You know he won't believe you any way, don't you?" he asked, an air of condescension nearly vibrating around him. "And you're going to behave when you're in my presence, isn't that right?"

Again, Harry nodded brokenly, trying hard not to cry out in pain as the man used Harry's stomach as leverage when he got back up from the floor.

"Good boy."

_amamamamamamamamamam_

Ah, the first cliff hanger of the story! Sweet! Well, I'd call it a cliff hanger, anyways.

I think my cat is going into heat….just so everyone knows. And oddly enough, she's supposed to get fixed on Tuesday.

Anyways, enough of the random talk.

I updated early because Lilynette and I made a deal…mwah!!!!! She promised to review every chapter if I would update early…well, I kind of bribed her with it…so all is well in the universe. I'm evil and sneaky. HAHA. So, Lilynette…REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you and good night.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter has not be beta-read yet, so please let me know if you see any errors and I'll fix them as quickly as possible. Thanks.

Chapter 4

After the door swung shut behind him and Harry was sure he was long gone, he gingerly picked himself up off the floor. After he could breathe, that was. His stomach felt warm and swollen and hurt like hell to touch. Unable to believe what had just happened to him, Harry stood on the dirty floor contemplating his situation.

Never before had anyone hit him like Kirkpatrick had just done. Honestly, while living at the Dursley's, he'd had occasion to believe his Uncle might just do more than slap him, but he never had done anything worse. And it was probably the fear of what the other 'freaks' like him would do that kept him from it. But Kirkpatrick didn't have any such fears. Because Harry knew Snape wouldn't lift a finger to help him, even if he did find out his friend was doing more than just smacking him around and making him do all the hard work around the house.

Not knowing when or even if Dumbledore would show up didn't make him feel more confident in his situation either. He wasn't sure how he should handle the situation. He hadn't seen any owls, so it wasn't as if he could just owl one of his friends to help him. Not that they would believe him if he tried, though. The fact that he had treated his friends like less than people for the past week wouldn't endear them to his plight. They probably wouldn't even believe him either.

Feeling more and more despondent by the moment, Harry finally managed to make it out the door and forced himself to head towards the house. It was more the fact that Kirkpatrick would be coming back to the lighthouse at some point in the evening in order to sleep…he did live there as it were…that made him move.

Halfway across the stone walkway, Harry could see inside the kitchen window. Kirkpatrick was sitting at the table and Snape was up and apparently doing something over on the counter. He couldn't see what precisely, and honestly, he didn't care. He was more concerned with the man sitting.

Seeing as how he hadn't eaten since lunch, and even then he hadn't eaten much due to the nasty portions he'd been given, Harry was understandably hungry. And a little nervous about entering the kitchen due to the man sitting at the table. Had it only been Snape, Harry was certain he would have been able to saunter on in and make himself a sandwich, at least. With Kirkpatrick in the room, on the other hand, he wasn't sure what to do.

His need to eat, however, forced him to enter the room in which he wished was empty, and very slowly made his way towards the ice box. Opening it, he'd barely pulled out a package of sandwich meat when he felt eyes on his back.

"Did you finish shoveling out all the dirt already?" asked Kirkpatrick, his voice considerably low and menacing…at least to Harry's ears it was.

Harry stopped in his tracks. He hadn't even thought about it when he'd left the lighthouse. It honestly seemed like hours had passed him by when in reality it had probably only been half an hour, if not a little more, since he'd been sent back to finish what he'd started.

He slowly turned and faced the man sitting at the table. "I-I just wanted to come in and get something to eat," he said softly, even though the anger and fear he felt towards this man still coursed through his veins. "I'll finish after that."

"You weren't even supposed to come into the house until after you'd cleaned the first floor, or did you conveniently forget that?" he continued in his hard tone. "You'll have nothing to eat and you will return to the lighthouse this instant!"

Harry wanted nothing more than to throw the package of sandwich meat at Kirkpatrick's head in that instant. He stifled the movement; however, knowing the outcome would not be worth his momentary enjoyment of seeing the packaged meat slam into the man's oddly shaped head.

Snape, who had actually slipped his mind for the few minutes he'd been in the kitchen, deemed to make his presence known in that moment. "Potter, sit down and eat a sandwich, then continue out in the lighthouse."

Looking up in surprise, Harry noticed that Snape was giving Kirkpatrick a look…a look that Harry couldn't quite identify. The two men seemed to actually be glaring at each other.

Quickly, so he wouldn't have to be in the same room with two volatile men any longer than absolutely necessary, Harry threw together a hasty sandwich. He ate it just as hastily, almost choking in his effort to finish quickly, and followed it with a glass of water.

Once out the door, Harry heard Snape begin to talk, "I don't recall giving you permission to…" before he was out of earshot and unable to hear anything more. Assuming his Professor was angry at the man for presuming to boss him around when it was in fact Snape's job to boss him around made Harry just a little happier. But not by much.

His stomach still ached deeply and he would have rather been climbing into bed than climbing through the lighthouse door. It wasn't going to be pleasant, doing this job with the way he felt at the moment, and a few hours later he knew just how correct he was.

Feeling slightly out of breath and still in pain, probably more pain that he'd been in before, Harry looked around the room with a little bit of pride. He'd finally finished shoveling out the entire first floor. His stomach was killing him, his hands were blistered, and his back felt like his spine was about to come through his skin, but he was finally finished. And then he remembered the leaves.

"Damn," he muttered, looking around at the leaves that were cluttered on top of what little furniture was downstairs. There were even more leaves piled up on the spiral staircase that led to the level above him. What leaves had been on the floor he'd already taken care of by shoveling it out with the dirt. Looking around himself in just a little bit of dismay, Harry went to get the bags.

……………………………………..

When he was finally, really, and truly finished with cleaning out the first floor of the lighthouse, Harry slid down to the floor in relief. His entire body was aching now, and all he wanted was to climb into bed and sleep for eternity. Like that was going to happen, but he could dream.

The light was long gone by that point.

Again, it was the idea that Kirkpatrick would be coming out soon that got him moving back towards the house. He was actually a little surprised that he hadn't come out already to see how he was progressing. It just seemed like something the man would do and that he hadn't come out yet was actually a bit disconcerting. It made him wonder where he was. Still in the house? Outside waiting for him in the shadows?

With these notions in his head, Harry started out the door with his eyes wide and looking in every direction he possibly could at once. He wished now that he'd been allowed to keep his wand during with him. Snape had confiscated it when he'd arrived, deeming it a house rule that no wands were allowed on minors. Seeing as how he was the only minor, Harry kind of thought the rule sucked.

The more he thought about Kirkpatrick, the more he began to wonder if he didn't deserve the bad treatment. Maybe it was his penance for getting Cedric killed. Maybe he did deserve it, but if he did, was it wrong of him to wish he didn't? It wasn't exactly a pleasant thing to be going through, and he didn't like this new sensation of fear that had taken place inside of him. He was used to the anger. Anger was easier to deal with, easier to control. The fear seemed to come out of him like a punch, when he least expected it, and it seemed that was the way Kirkpatrick liked it. Taking him by surprise.

So caught up in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice him until he was standing directly beside him. Kirkpatrick in all his menacing glory. Unintentionally, Harry took a step backwards, coincidentally in the direction of the lighthouse, instead of the house up ahead where he really wanted to be.

"What do you want now?" asked Harry, trying to hold onto his anger in the face of the thing he was beginning to fear.

When he saw the narrowing eyes at his tone, Harry internally cringed. "I thought we discussed this, Harry," the man said quietly. Deceptively quietly.

Harry wasn't sure what to do or say. What to do to make the man happy. What he should do to ensure the man wouldn't hit him again. And, even as he thought this, he couldn't help but want to mouth off even more. He didn't know what was wrong with him; he'd been using his anger as a shield for so long he wasn't quite sure how to shut it off. And it was about to get him into some serious trouble.

He started to try sidestepping the man, incongruously, of course, in order to start getting closer to the house. Not that getting closer to the house would really help him, he suddenly realized. It wasn't as if Snape would be any help. It was even possible that the Professor would start using the same methods Kirkpatrick had deemed necessary. Why he hadn't thought of this sooner was beyond him.

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, Snape suddenly appeared at the open door.

"Potter, it is past eleven o'clock. Come inside," he stated plainly, standing in the doorway and waiting for him to make a move. With Snape watching, Kirkpatrick backed off and merely stood watching as Harry went inside.

Harry wasn't sure if this was any better or not. Looking at him now, Harry couldn't really tell if the man would turn violent or not. He wouldn't put it past him, that was for sure, but for the time being, he wouldn't worry about it until it happened. He already had enough to worry about with Kirkpatrick.

"Clean yourself up and get into bed, Potter," Snape instructed when he apparently didn't go to his room fast enough.

"Yes, sir," he answered automatically, getting a surprised reaction out of the both of them.

"No attitude, Potter? I'm shocked," Snape said and Harry almost wished he hadn't.

"I could argue if that would make things more normal for you," he stated sarcastically and got a narrowing of the brow from Snape for his efforts. His attitude, as it were, was pretty much coming from an involuntary response inside of him. It was as if it kicked into action whenever he felt the need to throw up a defense. Keeping people from seeing how it was he truly felt.

Harry didn't wait for an answer or a reprimand from the man and quickly made his way into the bathroom to wash up. When he came out a few minutes later, Snape was no longer in the hallway so Harry went ahead into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. The room was dark as he hadn't bothered to turn on the light, but the little bit of moonlight that was filtering in through the curtains allowed him to see where he was going as he crossed the room to his bed.

He kept his pajamas under his pillow and he proceeded to undress and change into them. Once that was accomplished he climbed into bed and sat staring at the ceiling. Even after all he'd done that day, working that morning, attempting to escape, and finishing shoveling out the bottom floor of the lighthouse that evening, Harry still couldn't seem to fall asleep. He had thought he'd practically pass out as soon as his head was on the pillow. Unfortunately, this wasn't so.

Suddenly, the thing he had been trying to avoid since he'd come here, hell, since it happened, became something he couldn't seem to _not_ think about. Any attempt to sway his thoughts in a different direction, even the not so pleasant direction of Kirkpatrick failed.

He thought about the night it happened. How Cedric had been with him, had been talking with him, and then suddenly he was dead. Right in front of him. And he hadn't been able to do a thing to save him. It should have been him, not Cedric. He shouldn't have had to die.

When he finally did fall asleep, it was with depressing thoughts of Cedric fluttering around in his mind and his sleep was anything but restful. And the nightmares caused him to wake up in a cold sweat on more than one occasion that evening. He even had to stifle his screams once or twice in the hopes that Snape wouldn't hear him and come asking questions.

The following morning dawned with a very tired and irritable Harry Potter sitting up in bed, having not accomplished much sleep at all. With dark circles already under his eyes, Harry tried to pull his lethargic body out of bed. All he wanted to do was just go the hell back to sleep…just minus the nightmares, though.

Knowing it wouldn't happen and he would just get into more trouble if he attempted to sleep in, Harry dragged himself into the bathroom and dunked his head into a sink full of very cold water. It served to wake him up, if only for a few minutes.

Out in the kitchen, Harry was disappointed to see that both men were awake and sitting at the kitchen table. Kirkpatrick was just finishing his breakfast and it appeared as if Snape had already eaten. Not sure if food was going to be an option this morning – Kirkpatrick had threatened to deprive him of it often enough already – Harry cautiously started helping himself to some eggs and toast. When neither of them protested, though Kirkpatrick really looked like he might, Harry quickly ate it before it was taken from him. Well, he ate some of it. His appetite wasn't much that morning. Not that he'd had much of one before, either.

"I think today you can assist in the house, Potter. In fact, if you're finished with your breakfast, you'll follow me into the basement," stated Snape, moving from his position by the counter. 

His plate disappeared before his eyes and Harry was grateful that he had indeed been finished eating, otherwise he wouldn't have had a chance to do so. Supposedly, Snape hadn't really meant it when he'd asked if he was finished with his breakfast…oh well, Harry was too damn tired to care.

Kirkpatrick remained at the table as the two of them left the kitchen, but Harry could feel his eyes boring into his back until they were out of sight. In order to keep his mind off of the man he hated and despised, Harry started asking questions. Plus, he wanted to know to answers.

"I didn't realize there was a basement," he stated, merely wanting an answer.

"There is one," Snape remarked without further information.

Harry waited for a moment, figuring the Professor would continue. And when he didn't, "Well, where's it at?" he persisted, having never seen a door that he didn't already know where it led.

"In here," and Snape walked into his bedroom.

Stopping completely in his tracks, because hello, he wasn't allowed in the man's bedroom; Harry began to wonder if this was some type of trick.

From within the room he heard Snape's exasperated tone. "Potter, do you plan on standing in the hallway for the remainder of the morning?"

Well, truthfully, the thought had occurred to him, considering he was still in the hallway.

"Potter, move!"

Harry jumped and proceeded into the room where he saw Snape standing in his closet of all places. His wandering eyes had actually taken in the man's bedroom before he'd even saw Snape, and it was really a nice room. He'd been expecting something drearier, and not the almost Romanesque feel of it. Everything looked antique and expensive and hand-made, nothing like the rest of the house.

He had half a mind to ask the man about it, but thought he probably wouldn't get an answer anyways, and besides…Snape was looking more and more irritated now that he'd set eyes on him again.

The closet in which he was standing was a walk-in and set in the floor was a large panel that pulled up and revealed a long set of wooden steps that led into the darkness below. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. The man wasn't going to throw him down there without any light to work by, right?

Fortunately, Snape headed down the stairs first, and Harry quickly followed after him. The staircase was a little treacherous; as there were no rails and it wasn't enclosed with a wall on either side…it was wide open. At the bottom, Snape started flicking his wand around and various lamps within the basement began to light the room, making him feel less worried.

The basement was large, obviously covering the entire home above them, and there were many places where the light was unable to cast its glow and the shadows crept up the walls, making the smaller places seem a bit creepy. Portions of the basement were walled off creating small rooms or even tunnel-like areas. Harry hoped he wasn't going to be made to go into those areas. These were the places that were the most shadowed as well.

Turning to Snape he asked, "So, what am I supposed to do?"

"As you can see, no one has used the basement in quite a while. I mean to turn it into my laboratory while we stay here this summer. What I want from you is to clean off the counters in the main area here, sweep and mop the floors, and dust off the shelves on the wall over there. Also," he stepped closer to one of the smaller rooms, almost the size of a closet, but without a door, and continued. "I plan on using this room for storage. You don't have to bother with anything else down here except the main room and this small storage room. Clean them to my standards and without slacking off and you can have the rest of the day to yourself once you are finished."

Harry stood with his mouth standing slightly agape. "Have the rest of the day off?" he asked incredulously. "It will take all day to even finish what you want me to do!"

"If you start straight away and stop your incessant whining, you'll be finished well before dinner time," Snape corrected him.

Glaring at the man, Harry looked around the room in frustration. He was so sick of getting the crappy jobs. "What am I supposed to use to clean with?" he asked resignedly, with a touch of his usual irritation.

"Everything you'll need is underneath the stairs," he pointed towards a small door that was indeed set underneath the stairs. "I'll check on you later."

Before Harry could protest, Snape was already up the stairs and shutting the door behind him.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself. The small door seemed oddly menacing and Harry honestly didn't want to open it. Knowing Snape would be less than pleased with him and he didn't want to have to deal with him if he was pissed off, Harry moved to open the door. Plus, he really wanted the rest of the day off. So, getting finished as quickly as possible while doing the best job he possibly could was at the forefront of his mind.

Upon opening the door, he was struck with just how much it was like his own cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's. It was almost uncanny how much it looked like his own. The shape and size were exactly the same, even the color of the walls were the same. If he had seen a small cot resting in the center of the room, Harry thought he would have ran screaming in the opposite direction. He looked down, almost expecting to see it, and was shocked when he didn't. Sitting where he had expected the cot to be was the cleaning supplies Snape had told him would be in there. There was a broom and a mop leaning against the opposite wall and Harry grabbed the broom straight away. But upon second thought, he grabbed some cleaning solution and rags instead. He would dust first.

Shaking just a bit and feeling stupid for it, Harry stepped backwards out of the room, hardly able to tear his eyes away from it. He just kept thinking his Uncle would be waiting around the corner to throw him in there and shut and lock the door. But his Uncle wasn't here and neither was anyone else for that matter. He was completely alone in the basement.

Dusting the counters gave him something else to think about and the soothing motion finally calmed his racing heart and he gave himself a goal to meet. He intended to finish wiping down and dusting the main and storage rooms in the next hour and a half, if not sooner.

He managed it but just barely. He had continuously interrupted his motions by glancing around the room and peering into the dark shadows. Sometimes he just felt as if someone was watching him…other times…he was almost positive of it. Once he'd even taken down one of the lanterns and walked into one of the darkened rooms to see if anything was there. The room was bare and within was the only window he had seen in the basement. It was high and he had to stand on a stool he'd grabbed from the main area to look outside, thinking someone was out there. But no one was and he'd replaced the stool and the lantern and gotten back to work. But the feeling was still there.

Trying to just ignore the feeling, figuring he was just imagining it, Harry grabbed the supplies he'd taken out and went to retrieve the broom and the mop from the cupboard under the stairs. He felt dread swell in his chest and he berated himself silently for it. He was by himself here, his Uncle Vernon wouldn't be caught dead here, and it was stupid to be feeling like this.

But as he had to crawl inside to reach the mop bucket, Harry had that intense feeling that someone was watching him again. He spun around, landing on his arse, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw the silhouette against the door of someone standing just beyond the cupboard.

Using the stick of the broom as a weapon, Harry flung himself out of the cupboard, completely ready to attack whoever was standing there. Honestly expecting it to be Kirkpatrick, or more irrationally…his Uncle, Harry was unprepared when Snape snapped his wrist up and caught the end of the broom before he could nail him in the side of the head with it.

"Potter!"

For a moment, Harry actually struggled to get the broom back, before Snape tore it out of his grasp.

"Calm yourself, Potter!" Snape yelled at him.

Getting his wits about him, Harry finally controlled his rolling emotions, building his anger within him like a shield.

"Well if you wouldn't stalk around down here and spy on me!" he yelled back furiously, figuring now that it had been Snape who had been watching him earlier.

Snape didn't reply, he merely stood and looked at Harry with something on his face Harry couldn't quite identify. Almost as if Harry was some new type of undiscovered potion ingredient that he'd just unearthed.

"You're frightened of the cupboard."

It was a statement not a question.

"You read my mind again! I told you to stop that!" yelled Harry.

"Actually, Potter, I didn't need to use Legilimency. You're projecting your fear rather well on your own," he informed the teen.

Harry sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with something that would make sense for why he wasn't too fond of the cupboard. Something other than the true reason, but nothing would come to him that wasn't just as screwed up as the truth.

"I-I'm not afraid of it," he said instead. It wasn't an excuse or anything quite as interesting as that. But denial was always a good defense when nothing else would work. He couldn't get the truth out of him.

"Potter, you don't seem to understand that you can't lie to me if you already gave away the truth," said Snape calmly, his arms crossed against his chest.

"I'm not lying!"

Snape looked exasperated. "Don't be dense, Potter. Just moments ago you claimed I had read your mind when I stated you were frightened of the cupboard. If you were in fact not frightened of the cupboard, then why would you say such a thing?"

Harry stood and stared at the man at a complete loss or what to say. He'd stepped right in it this time and couldn't talk his way out of it.

"Just leave me alone!" he yelled instead and started sweeping up the floors, hoping the man would do as he'd asked.

Harry didn't hear anything after a moment and looked around to where the man had been. He wasn't there any longer. Sighing in relief, he turned back around to continue what he'd been doing when the broom suddenly was yanked out of his hands. Snape was still in the room, in front of him in fact, and looking determined to do the opposite of what Harry had asked of him.

"You realize I can not help you unless you tell me what is wrong," Snape sat on the stool he'd used earlier to look out the window.

"Like you care," spat Harry.

"Actually, you're right. But, you're here in order for me to help you, and I won't be able to accomplish that unless you talk," Snape answered stoically. "So talk."

Harry grabbed the broom back out of the man's hands and started sweeping again, the strokes angry and uneven, sending the dust flying up into the air. "I'm not talking to you!"

Snape wrapped his hands around Harry's and the broom and held them still. Harry struggled for a moment but when he realized he couldn't pull his hands out of the man's grip, he stopped. "Just leave me alone," he said resignedly.

"Tell me why you're frightened of the cupboard and I'll leave," he shot back at him.

Harry glared and made a last futile attempt to pull his hands from Snape's. Then he sighed angrily. "Fine, you jerk. My Uncle would lock me in the cupboard under the stairs whenever I did something wrong or sometimes just for the hell of it!" When he looked into Snape's eyes he could tell the man thought he was lying.

"You don't believe me," Harry said softly. He didn't know why he even thought the man would. And Snape even made him tell. "Why'd you make me tell if you weren't even going to think for a second that I might be telling the truth!" he yelled, trying again to yank his hands away and failing. "Use your stupid legilimency if you don't believe me!"

Harry was surprised when the man actually did as he asked. He could feel Snape's presence in his mind and he intentionally let Snape see the times when his Uncle had shoved him in the cupboard. And there were many, many times that it had happened.

Snape still looked disbelieving when he finally made eye contact for more than just seeing in his head.

"How can you see that and not believe it happened? It's not as if my memories can lie!"

Snape let go of Harry's hands. "I'm not disbelieving that your Uncle didn't put you in the cupboard. I'm disbelieving that Albus Dumbledore would leave a child in such a household," he answered before walking up the stairs without another word.

Harry watched him leave, speechless. What the hell?

He cautiously climbed the stairs and looked into Snape's bedroom, expecting him to be there, but he wasn't. Climbing out of the closet, Harry walked down the hallway and into the living room. Kirkpatrick suddenly came out of the kitchen, where he always seemed to be, and startled Harry.

"Where's Snape?" he asked guardedly.

"He left, said he had something he had to do. He probably won't be back until tomorrow," he said, looking a little too happy about it. "Now, aren't you supposed to be cleaning the basement?"

Harry watched Kirkpatrick with apprehension and a little bit of anger. Wanting to avoid another confrontation like the one out in the lighthouse, Harry quickly made his way back to the basement. At the bottom of the steps he heard a sound coming from the doorway that sounded suspiciously like the lock clicking into place. Running back up the stairs Harry tried the door and found his suspicion confirmed.

"Damn it!" he said heatedly, slamming one hand against the door. He figured he wouldn't be let out anytime soon. At least it wasn't the cupboard, he thought ironically.

So much for having the rest of the day off.

……………………………………

A/N:

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, so I hope you all like it. Shoonasasi, please let me know if it is okay!

Please review. It would be really awesome if we could get above 200 reviews…we have 139 right now, I think. I won't hold my breath or anything, but it would definitely be nice…

Lilynette…I'm expecting that review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Harry sat at the top of the stairs, his head lightly touching the door above him. It was shut tight, and all the kicking and slamming in the world wouldn't open it. After he'd practically exhausted himself trying to open the door, it hit him. The window. The one in the little darkened room directly across from him. It was getting dark outside by this point, and little light was shining through except what meager rays of sunshine still existed.

He started to go into the room, only to realize the light wasn't going to last for much longer and went to retrieve the lantern he'd used earlier. Lighting it, he walked into the room, eyeing the window speculatively. He thought he could fit through it with a little wiggling and squirming. He'd just have to be very quiet and not draw the attention of the prick upstairs.

Setting the lantern down on the floor, Harry looked around for a moment, unable to recall where he'd put the stool he'd used earlier. Shaking his head at his own forgetfulness, Harry went back into the main room and grabbed the stool he'd put back when he'd been finished using it from before. Placing it against the wall, Harry stood on his tip toes on the seat of the stool, hoping he wouldn't fall off of it. That would hurt like a bitch.

The window was nailed shut for whatever reason, but it hadn't been done well. He was able to pull most of the nails out with his own fingers. The ones that were jammed in a little better than the others were still easy to pry out with a little judicious hammering and prying with a piece of hefty wood he'd found in another room.

Once that was accomplished, Harry smiled to himself. The sense of freedom was almost upon him…almost. He just had to climb out. The window opened easily. Harry had been worried it would creak or make some other loud noise to alert Kirkpatrick, but it didn't. He had to jump in order to get his upper body through the window and once that was done, he grabbed hold of a stone, probably a portion of the house, and started to drag himself up.

When he felt the hand on his own, it almost didn't register. But when it cinched his hand painfully tight, Harry glanced up in alarm as his face simultaneously fell. Kirkpatrick was kneeling in front of him with a look on his face that he could only describe as pleased. "Going somewhere?" he asked Harry hatefully, before yanking Harry's grip from the stone as he started pushing the smaller boy backwards. Back into the house.

Harry tried to maintain his grip, but Kirkpatrick nearly broke one of his fingers in order to release his hold. Harry cried out as he suddenly found himself airborne. He hit the ground with a thud, pain exploding up his back and in his head. When he tried to move he started to black out.

When Harry next became aware, his head throbbed and his back felt like he'd been very close to doing some damage to it. It hurt so badly. Hearing loud hammering noises sent even more painful jolts into his already pounding head and he slammed the palms of his hands against his ears in a futile effort to stop the sounds.

Looking up he finally realized where the noise was originating from and groaned. The only hope of escape was being nailed shut…again…and with a lot more force than was originally done. He highly doubted he'd be able to pull out the nails this time, especially without a real tool to use and without his wand.

Kirkpatrick glanced up suddenly from his work, apparently having seen movement from the boy, and grinned at him maliciously. Harry hated him. He hated him more than he thought he'd ever hated anyone before. And considering the people he'd come into contact with, that was definitely saying something, a defining moment as it were. He just couldn't understand why the man was being so mean to him. There didn't seem to be a reason to his hatefulness, and if that were the case, Harry was beginning to consider that the man might be mad. Or just a sick, demented man who got his jollies out of torturing others. Freak.

When the noise suddenly stopped, Harry was pulled from his silent musings and he glanced out the window to see what Kirkpatrick was doing now. Only, he couldn't see him anymore. The lantern's light could only illuminate the area beyond the window so much, and he wondered if the man was just standing there watching him. It was a very creepy notion and a shiver ran up his spine.

Getting up on unsteady feet, his back was really hurting, Harry walked slowly back into the main room and was instantly aware that Kirkpatrick wasn't outside. He could hear the man moving around upstairs. But then what if it was Snape? Briefly, he considered calling out, but wasn't sure if it was the right course of action. What if it wasn't Snape? What if Kirkpatrick was up there just waiting for a reason to get ticked off enough to come back down here. And even if it were Snape, the man would probably consider him an idiot for trying to escape in the first place. Not once, but twice. And he knew Kirkpatrick would shed the entire situation in a light that would make Harry seem like the guilty party.

Deciding against calling out, Harry chose to continue cleaning the basement to Snape's specifications just in case he came back early. Kirkpatrick had said he'd be gone for a while, but who knew if he was lying or not.

Picking up the broom he had discarded earlier, Harry began working on sweeping the floors. He hadn't exactly done an exceptional job when he'd been trying to sweep earlier as Snape had been trying to get him to talk. In fact, the floor looked worse than before. Lovely.

Sweeping required that he bend his frame a little bit…and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. It hurt like hell, really. And to top it off, his head ached like nothing he'd experienced before, after it had bounced off the floor so spectacularly. He hated Kirkpatrick. Damn jerk.

A creaking step was what let Harry know he was no longer alone. Spinning around while simultaneously bringing the broom up as a weapon once more, Harry faced the person he was beginning to consider a real enemy.

Kirkpatrick stopped on the stair his weight had made creak, holding what looked to Harry to be painting supplies.

"What are you doing?" he asked, the broom held tightly in his hands, ready to swing at a moment's notice.

"Change of plans," Kirkpatrick said nonchalantly.

Harry glared. "Snape wants me to clean the basement. Not paint," he stated the obvious, as he was fairly sure the little jerk knew precisely what he was supposed to be doing. He also was fairly certain this was some type of ruse to get Harry in Snape's bad graces. He was worried what Snape might think if he came back to find the basement not finished to his specifications.

Moving the broom up higher when he saw the man come down another step, Harry stood with a defensive stance, at least attempting to be ready for him.

Kirkpatrick sat the cans of paint on the dusty floor with a resounding bang. "You'll do as I say, Mr. Potter. And you will not talk back to me! Have you forgotten your lessons so quickly?" he stated heatedly, his face even as Harry watched turning a deep shade of red. "You will do as you are told!"

This last was screamed at him and Harry inadvertently took a step away from the man.

"You stay away from me," shaking in fear and trepidation, Harry continued to put distance between the two of them. He feared what would happen if Kirkpatrick got his hands on him again. What happened in the lighthouse had been absolutely horrifying. Honestly, he didn't want to go through that kind of pain again. The ache of his back at this precise moment was nothing to the pain he had felt when Kirkpatrick had beaten him that day. Twisting his fists against the grain of the broomstick handle, Harry tried to prepare himself for anything.

Grinning, looking deceptively calm, Kirkpatrick gained another step on Harry's position. "Mr. Potter, I don't believe you understood what I just said. Perhaps we need another lesson in understanding? Perhaps it hasn't sunk into your exceptionally dimwitted brain that you are not the one in charge here."

Bristling at the words spoken against him, Harry couldn't help but glare angrily at the man. Against his better judgment, and quite frankly, he just couldn't quite keep his ire inside, he said, "Perhaps it is you whose stupidity is monumental. It's not you who is in charge. This isn't your house. The lighthouse that stands outside is not your property. Snape is just giving you a place to stay. You're only here on Snape's say so. And wouldn't you know it? That means Snape is the one in charge. And since he's not here…you can kiss my ass."

As soon as he was finished speaking Harry's mouth dropped open of its own accord. He did not just say that to Kirkpatrick, the man who looked at him now as if Harry was a fresh piece of meat and Kirkpatrick was only more than willing to cook him nice and slowly. And painfully. Over an open flame. While poking him with searing hot prongs.

Suddenly knowing his death was upon him, Harry continued down his path of craziness and lashed out with the broom he'd been practically crushing between his clenched fists. And was shocked when the thing actually connected cleanly with the side of Kirkpatrick's head. The man went down quickly, hitting the ground with a muffled thud on the dusty floor.

Standing there, momentarily stunned, Harry dropped the broom. The noise it made was decidedly louder than the noise Kirkpatrick had made. It clattered noisily as it hit the floor, bouncing a few times before coming to rest. The noise was what actually made him come to his senses.

He smacked himself in the head. "Stupid, Potter!" he stood there degrading himself for a few moments before swooping down and retrieving the broom once more. "You're only form of defense and you drop it on the floor, you bloody idiot," he muttered to himself, thinking if this had been one of those stupid scary movies that he had snuck a look at while Dudley and his friends had been watching the telly, he'd have laughed his arse off. It never ceased to amaze him how in every scary movie, the idiots either dropped or happened to lose the weapons that had just saved their lives in the scene prior. Morons. Have some sense.

Unfortunately, Harry's brief moment of self reflection had cost him. Dearly. Kirkpatrick had managed to regain his feet. And he swung out harshly, the side of his fist connecting with the side of Harry's face, sending him flying to the floor as his face exploded in a fire of agony. Briefly incognizant of the danger around him, Harry lay prone on the floor, dust sifting up from all the movement now settling in his hair and on his clothes.

Distantly, Harry recognized that Kirkpatrick was coming towards him again but he wasn't able to move away like he wanted to. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes rolling attempting to focus on something, wishing his facilities would come back to him. Escaping was foremost on his mind, but he was currently helpless.

When the man straddled his hips and wrapped his hands around his slender neck, Harry knew he really needed to move. As the fingers began to clench around his windpipe, Harry finally found the ability to struggle. He started clawing at the hands at his throat, hitting at the man's face, and kicking out to anything he could reach. Nothing he did, however, seemed to thwart Kirkpatrick's desire to strangle the life out of him.

Suddenly, the man stopped and sat up, staring at his hands and down at the boy beneath him as if confused. Harry immediately took in a gasping breath and just as quickly started coughing so hard he almost threw up. Every intake of breath just made him want to cough even more, so he tried to calm down and take shallow breaths. But with Kirkpatrick still straddling him it wasn't easy. What if he attacked again? And what the hell made him stop?

Harry could tell by looking at the man's face that he was still angry, but apparently trying to squelch anymore abuse. Harry hoped he realized that killing him would leave a lot to be explained once Snape returned. Kirkpatrick suddenly levered himself up and off of Harry and then grabbed Harry's arms to sit him up.

Instinctively, Harry flinched away from him, but the man held firm. "Just sit still and take slow breaths, Potter," he instructed angrily. "Damn it," he muttered, seemingly to himself now. Harry watched him run a hand roughly through his hair, his agitation showing clearly. When the man suddenly took his face and tilted it backwards, Harry slapped the hand away and started peddling his feet against the dusty floor, moving backwards. He wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

"Potter, calm the hell down," Kirkpatrick grabbed at Harry's ankle, but the boy was quicker, making it to his feet, and backed away from the man. When he hit the wall, however, he felt even more trapped.

"You stay away from me!" he rasped out, and immediately started coughing again…rough, hacking coughs that felt like his throat was tearing apart. It hurt and it even burned. Harry wished for a cold glass of water but didn't presume to get one anytime soon.

Looking down he saw that he was now standing by the painting supplies that Kirkpatrick had brought down earlier. If he had to, Harry was more than willing to dispatch a can of paint at the jerk's head.

"Shut up, Potter, and do as you're told!" his tormentor continued to come closer, his intense eyes practically plastered to his neck, Harry realized. It must be swollen, he thought, because it sure felt swollen. And bruised too, he bet. Kirkpatrick was probably freaking out in that case, because this was something he couldn't hide from Snape. He would definitely see it.

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later. "Can you heal those?" he asked, continuing his slow walk in Harry's direction.

Harry raised his hand to his throat, feeling the heat coming from the swollen area, and realized he couldn't even if he had wanted to. "Snape has my wand," he answered quietly.

"Damn it!" Kirkpatrick slammed his hand down on a nearby table, one Snape planned to use when he turned the basement into his laboratory.

Harry watched as the man began pacing the dirty floor, kicking up the dust, which once he inhaled it made Harry begin to cough again. It hurt so badly now he was surprised he wasn't coughing up a lung.

Kirkpatrick stopped once he realized he wasn't helping the situation. He obviously needed Harry's throat to be better before Snape returned. His eyes lit up as if he suddenly had an idea. "You stay here and paint the basement like I instructed," he said, making his way upstairs. "If I find your wand, you'll be able to heal yourself, right?" he asked when he was half-way up.

Harry honestly wasn't sure if he could or not. It wasn't something he'd learned in any of his classes. But, he had his textbooks here and he remembered seeing a basic healing spell in one of them. "I'll have to look in my books for the spell, but I think I can," he answered hesitantly.

This didn't seem to please Kirkpatrick…that he didn't know the spell right off his head, but it was the best Harry could do. "Fine, I'll look for your wand. You get to work!" he yelled, his voice menacing and promising retribution if he didn't do as he was told. As the door slammed shut once his tormentor had climbed out of the basement, Harry sunk slowly to the floor. He'd never felt more miserable in his life. Not even living with the Dursley's was this bad.

He only allowed himself a few moments of wallowing in his depression before he climbed tiredly to his feet and grabbed the broom. He would have to get the dust off of the walls if he wanted the paint job to look even remotely passable. Once that was accomplished, Harry pried the lid off of the first can of paint, a dark green color, and poured a bit of it into a tray. He then looked around and found the paint roller and attached it to a six inch extension pole that he found with the rest of the supplies. The walls were fairly tall down here and he would need it.

Once he was ready he rolled the paint roller through the tray and began to paint the walls, starting at the top and working his way down. Almost immediately he realized this wasn't going to help his throat at all. With the only window currently nailed shut, the fumes would have nowhere to go but to stay in the room. Already he wanted to cough.

Upon finishing the main room, he had to admit it looked pretty good, but all he'd gotten out of it was a splitting headache and an even tenderer throat.

He heard the clicking of the lock snapping out of place as the door was opened. Harry looked up the stairs with just a little bit of trepidation. The anger he normally felt wasn't the predominant feeling anymore, and it was a very odd feeling. He preferred the anger over fright, but anytime he let the anger take over, it caused Kirkpatrick to lose his own temper. He decided it was in his best interest to let the anger dampen down a bit.

As soon as Kirkpatrick started down the stairs Harry heard him let out a little startled cough as he inhaled the fumes.

"Why didn't you open…" he started before he cut himself off. He must have just remembered he had nailed the window shut, Harry thought darkly. If anything, the man looked more annoyed. "Why did you paint if you couldn't open the window, Potter?"

Harry stared at the man incredulously. "You told me to do as I was told," he answered…it came out as more of a sickly rasp, however. And this time he really did cough so hard he caused himself to sick up.

Immediately, Harry grabbed a rag and cleaned up what little he had thrown up. It wasn't as if he'd eaten much lately. There wasn't a trash can down in the basement, so Harry held the wadded up mess carefully in his hands.

"Come on, Potter," Kirkpatrick directed him up the stairs and outside to the back of the house. "Throw that in the pile there," he pointed to the pile of leaves that was to be burned and Harry did as he was told. He was too afraid of the consequences if he didn't do precisely that.

Once that was accomplished, they headed back into the house and into the kitchen. Kirkpatrick filled up a glass with water and handed it to Harry, which actually surprised the boy. He hadn't thought the man would do anything to help him. But, his throat was now worse and if anything, Kirkpatrick seemed more upset at this fact.

"I couldn't find your wand," Kirkpatrick said, answering any questions Harry had been contemplating about Kirkpatrick's sudden niceness. Without his wand, Harry couldn't heal himself and therefore his throat would have to heal the natural way. This would probably take a while, most definitely.

"Severus will be back tonight before dinner," the man was musing to himself, Harry knew, but this was a good thing for him. Kirkpatrick was less inclined to hurt him when Snape was around. Harry never thought he would actually be happy to see the man return, but it was what he was feeling right now. The man may not be the nicest person in the world, but he hadn't hurt Harry. Not like Kirkpatrick was keen on doing.

"This is what we're going to do," Kirkpatrick said suddenly, and then proceeding to breech Harry's personal space, backing him up until his back was pressed against the kitchen wall. "And you're going to do precisely what I say, aren't you Potter?" he asked, actually digging one finger into the bruised flesh of his throat. As soon as he let go Harry started coughing again, doubling over in the man's less than gentle embrace.

When the coughing began to wane, the man pushed him back up against the wall, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of his upper arms. "You didn't answer my question, Potter," he said menacingly. "You're going to do what you're told, isn't that right?"

Harry was beginning to hate hearing that question. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely. And immediately went into another coughing fit.

Kirkpatrick shook him roughly, which didn't help at all, but the man's impatience was getting the better of him. "Stop coughing!" he yelled.

Harry tried really hard to stop coughing, he really did, but it wasn't exactly something he could control. "Water?" he rasped out, and when he felt the glass slammed into his hand, water splashing over the sides, he drank it greedily. The cool water helped where the shaking most definitely hadn't. As soon as he had his voice, Harry answered the question he didn't want to hear anymore. "I'll do what I'm told."

"Good boy," Kirkpatrick released his bruising grip on the boy's arms and took a small step backwards. "Now, when Severus returns we're going to say you came down ill and are too sick to be up and about. You're going to stay in your room and if Severus wants you to come out for meals you're going to tell him you don't feel well enough to eat. Your throat sounding the way it does right now should be sufficient enough evidence that you're sick. Under no circumstances is he to see you up close unless you are wearing your robe to hide the bruises on your throat," he said, suddenly caressing the boy's neck in a parody of affection. "Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, his throat hurt too much at the moment to speak.

"Then to bed with you. Severus will be home shortly and I need to get dinner fixed," he said, pushing Harry towards the hallway and his bedroom. "And remember not to let him see you without your robe on. In fact, put it on right now," he said. "If he asks why you're wearing it, tell him you're cold."

Harry nodded again and very quickly went to his bedroom. Making his way to his trunk, he flung the lid open and searched for one of his school robes. Finding one, he slipped it on over his clothes and climbed into bed. If anything, the extra layer made him feel quite warm, making his condition seem worse. He wished he had brought the glass of water with him instead of leaving it in the kitchen.

After lying in bed for about thirty minutes he actually started to feel tired. The work from the day, the pain he had suffered at Kirkpatrick's hands and his headache conspired against him and finally put him to sleep. He hadn't wanted to go to sleep before his teacher had gotten back home, fearing what Kirkpatrick would do if he decided to do more damage. But, he had doubted the man would try anything with Snape coming back home that night. Glancing at his watch between very tired eyes, he figured Snape would be home within the hour, and with that surprisingly reassuring thought, he let his eyes drift shut for good.

He didn't wake up until he heard two voices coming from the living room about an hour later. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but who was he kidding, he so wanted to hear what Kirkpatrick was telling Professor Snape.

He got up and went to the door, ready to run back and leap into his bed if the voices came closer to his room.

"…come down ill? He seemed to be fine when I left this morning. Are you certain he isn't pulling a ruse and acting ill to get out of his chores?"

This annoyed Harry just a bit, but only for a moment. Kirkpatrick was beginning to weave his web of lies as he listened in.

"Unfortunately, he does seem quite sick. He's come down with something. His throat is especially sore and you can tell when he speaks. He's been sleeping in bed for most of the afternoon. I've been in to check on him and he hasn't even woken up."

Harry rolled his eyes at the obvious lie and found himself wishing that Snape would just figure it out already. Why didn't his teacher ever use that legilimency thing on Kirkpatrick like he did on him?

"Very well, I'll look in on him now and see if he's up for some dinner," at this Harry quickly ran back to his bed and threw the covers up over his head. He knew he sometimes slept like this and wanted to make it seem believable. Even in bed, he could still hear the two speaking as they grew closer to his bedroom door.

"Perhaps we should just let him sleep," he heard Kirkpatrick say, his voice a little bit desperate in Harry's estimation.

"If he's as sick as you claim then the boy needs healing potions and a decent meal in his stomach to counteract the illness."

A healing potion sounded absolutely lovely to Harry, but he doubted it would get rid of his bruises, as it wouldn't be that type of healing potion. He didn't want to walk around in his robes for a week or so until the bruises disappeared.

The door opened and Harry went completely still. "Potter?" he heard Snape ask, his voice low.

Harry slowly rolled onto his side and pretended he was just waking up, which wasn't much of a feat considering he was still tired. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up in bed. "Yeah?" he whispered, his voice sounded horribly raw.

Snape seemed surprised at how horrible his voice sounded. He crossed the room and sat down on the side of Harry's bed. "Open your mouth, Potter," he instructed and Harry did so. "Tilt your head back a bit." Harry did this as well, his eyes widening a bit when he saw Kirkpatrick looking at him with an angry look on his face. He supposed the man thought he was about to get caught. Otherwise, he couldn't understand why the man would look at him like that.

He had his robe wrapped around him in such a way that Snape really shouldn't be able to even get a glimpse at his throat. "Are you cold?" the man asked, as if sensing his thoughts regarding his robe.

"A bit," he answered quietly, trying to restrict the use of his voice.

Harry flinched a little when Snape placed his hand against his forehead, presumably to check for a fever. Harry averted his eyes when he saw Snape glancing at him at the movement.

"You don't have a fever," he said. "You're throat is very raw for only having gotten sick this morning," he said, sounding a mite suspicious.

"It must have been building for a while now," Harry quickly came up with, and the cough that ripped through him had him grabbing onto Snape's arm to keep from sliding down into his pillows. Snape in turn had grabbed his arms to hold him up.

"I see that it must have been," Snape answered. "You rest now. I'll retrieve some healing potions for you to take after dinner. You'll need a full stomach in order for them to work affectively. I'll come get you when dinner is ready."

Once Snape had left the room, Kirkpatrick took the man's place and pushed Harry back into a prone position. "Not a word about this, Potter," he said softly.

Harry looked at him for a moment, feeling his rage start to build inside of him again. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked suddenly, his voice a mere whisper.

"You brought this on yourself, you little brat. You've been nothing but a nuisance since you arrived. Mouthing off to Severus, to me, not doing as you're told. If you had just done as we'd asked you to when you arrived, we wouldn't be in this position right now, would we?"

"If you weren't such a freak, I suppose we wouldn't be, no," said Harry angrily. He blanched as soon as he said it, however. He absolutely had to watch his temper around this man.

"Watch your mouth, Potter, or do you need another lesson already?" the man asked, his face showing Harry that he would be more than happy to teach him said lesson.

"No," Harry looked away, attempting to shuffle to the other side of the bed, but Kirkpatrick wouldn't let him. His arms had once more gripped Harry's as he held him in place. "Stop squirming!"

"Get your hands off of me," he said, a little too roughly, because he immediately started coughing. When he finally caught his breath, he noticed that the man was still holding onto him. "What's with you? Get off."

Kirkpatrick, however, was listening to the door. Probably to see if Snape was still in the kitchen. "Just shut up, Potter," he insisted, shaking Harry by his arms.

Harry couldn't wait for Snape to tell them dinner was ready. Anything to get him away from this jerk.

"Get off of me," Harry spat at him, the man's hands on his arms were really beginning to hurt. And suddenly, Harry didn't know what made him taunt Kirkpatrick, but suddenly he was doing it. "Get off of me or I'm going to tell him. I'll tell him everything," he rasped out dangerously. "He'll never let you stay if he knows what's been going on. Especially if he knows you fancy him!"

Kirkpatrick turned to face him and when their eyes met, Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. Threatening the man hadn't been the answer and he was about to pay for it. "I told you not to speak of that again!" he said heatedly as he placed his hand against Harry's robe covered throat and pushed in such a way that Harry needed to cough, but then Kirkpatrick put the palm of his hand over Harry's mouth.

Harry shoved futilely at the hands on his throat and mouth, but Kirkpatrick wouldn't budge. It was like earlier, when the man had been full out strangling him, only this was worse with him covering his mouth and pressing on his throat. His throat burned like fire as he tried to pull in a breath against the hand suppressing his breathing.

Harry's legs kicked out, as before, trying to make contact with something, anything. He arched off the bed and when Kirkpatrick moved his hand to let him breathe, Harry gasped for breath and coughed desperately. "Stop," he sobbed, as Kirkpatrick made to put his hand over his mouth again.

"You'll never mention it again, will you?" he spat at the boy. "Never!"

"No, I won't, I won't," he said, turning his head this way and that to avoid the hand that was still trying to press against his mouth. "No, no," he begged. "Please stop," he whispered, ashamed to feel tears coursing down his hot cheeks. His throat felt as if it was on fire, his entire body ached and with Kirkpatrick still pressing down slightly on his throat, he just felt agonized.

"Yes, Edwin, do stop," the words were said in such a tone that Harry was certain someone was about to die. It just sounded _evil_. And when Harry looked up he was never more shocked at what he saw. Snape had come back in the room at some point and had wrapped his arm around Kirkpatrick's throat and had his wand pressed into the side of the man's head so hard that the skin was being pushed inwards at the point of impact. And Harry had never seen the man look more angry than he was at that moment. Honestly, it was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen. The man looked downright homicidal. He wouldn't be surprised if Kirkpatrick died right then and there. And he couldn't even fathom why the man was so mad.

"What were you doing, Edwin?" Snape asked menacingly. "You were hurting a child under my roof. A child in my care!" he roared and even Kirkpatrick winced.

"Severus, you don't understand!" he cried out. "He's uncontrollable! It had to be done!"

"I highly doubt that, Edwin," said Snape, his wand still making a crevice out of the side of Kirkpatrick's face. "He did _nothing_ to be treated in such a way!" he yelled, his tone deadly. "I trusted you with him! And you know how I feel about the abuse of a child!"

Snape finally released the man but kept his wand trained on his head. "Step away from him," he said.

"Severus, please. You don't know what he's like when you're not around. Please, just take a moment and listen to me. That's all I ask."

"Nothing you say at this point will make me understand why you thought it was necessary to wrap your hand around his throat and keep him from breathing," said Snape, his wand hand steady yet Harry was distinctly worried the man was a moment away from murder.

"He wouldn't do as I asked him to! He tried to run away again, Severus. He hit me in the face with a broom," he yelled, indicating his face and showing the very light mark from the earlier impact.

Harry forced himself not to laugh. After all the man had done to him, he was upset because he'd smacked him with a broom? Idiot.

"He spoke poorly of you Severus. He always does!"

"I do not!" yelled Harry, instantly shuffling backwards as Kirkpatrick made a move towards him.

"Stay where you are, Edwin!" but Snape put a damper on that right away. "These are all very selfish and childish reasons you are giving me. You are the adult here. You should be able to handle a child with minor anger issues!"

"They're hardly minor, Severus!"

Snape was beginning to look more calm, which Harry was grateful for. But he was also worried Kirkpatrick would convince Snape of the lies he was telling. Snape lowered his wand now and this made Harry even more worried. He really shouldn't do that.

"You'd have me believe that Potter's transgressions required you to strangle him?"

"Oh, of course not! I know things got a little out of hand. But, he brought it upon himself!" insisted Kirkpatrick. "If he would just behave like I asked him to, this wouldn't have happened."

"If he doesn't do as you say in the future, what are you going to do? Slam his head into the wall until he begins to behave?" asked Snape sarcastically.

"Well, eventually his poor behavior would end if we weren't so easy on him," said Kirkpatrick in a tone that seemed like this was the most logical outcome to him. "If you would just stop being so careful with him!"

As Harry watched, Snape's eyes grew dark once more. "Get out of my house," he said heatedly.

Kirkpatrick seemed stunned. "What? Why?"

"You really don't realize why?" spat Snape. "Are you dense?"

"Please, Severus! See reason!"

"I can't believe I've known you all these years and never saw this side of you until now. You are not the man I thought I knew. And if you actually think I would ever stoop as low as you have in the treatment of a child, then you are single-handedly the most obtuse man I have ever known," said Snape calmly. "And yet you're still standing here, which shows me just how unintelligent you really are. Get out!"

"Severus, I have no where to go!"

"And shouldn't you have thought of that before you hurt the boy?" he asked. "Did you really think I'd allow you to stay?"

"If you understood how evil the little brat is, you wouldn't be throwing me out!"

Snape cocked his head. "I don't believe he's the evil one…"

Kirkpatrick looked outraged. "How dare you say such a thing to me! After all I've done for you! After I've gone out of my way to help you out with this land after your parents died! And everything I've done to try and straighten out this menace you've brought into your home! And this is the only thanks I get? The boot out the front door?"

"Yes, yes it is. And if you think you've done anything to help out here, you're seriously mistaken. If anything, you've done more harm than good!"

"Severus, please! Doesn't our relationship mean more to you than this?!"

Snape stopped and looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Excuse me?"

Harry couldn't help but snicker a bit. And decided he'd help out a little while he was at it. "Uh, Professor…he fancies you, by the way," he rasped out gently.

Snape looked at Harry incredulously and then glanced back at Kirkpatrick.

"You little shite!"

Harry tried to get out of the way, but Kirkpatrick had launched himself across the bed and grabbed the boy by his hair. He threw Harry back on the bed and punched him in the face. Harry lay gasping on the bed, and listened in silence as he heard Snape very roughly escorting Kirkpatrick out of the house. He thought he heard a little judicial use of some curses that he was fairly certain shouldn't be legal as Snape kicked the man out.

After it was all said and done, Harry lay on the bed, his entire body sore and hurting, and his mind in shock at the fact that Snape had not only defended him, but had even protected him in the end. It wasn't something he thought the man would do for him; especially against a man he had considered a friend once upon a time. But no longer, apparently.

When Snape came back in, he was carrying a few vials of a light green and light purple potion. He helped Harry sit up and then instructed him to drink the vials. Harry hesitated for a moment. The way the purple vial bubbled made him concerned about how it would feel against his very sore and tender throat.

"It won't hurt, Potter," Snape informed him when he'd stared at it with disdain for a little too long. He had apparently figured out what he'd been afraid of.

Harry downed both vials quickly and was pleasantly surprised to discover Snape hadn't lied to him. Neither potion had hurt his throat, and actually, the inside of his throat was beginning to feel much better now.

"Thanks," he whispered, still worried to use a much louder voice.

"You're welcome," returned his Professor.

The two sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Snape broke it.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently. "I can request the Headmaster's attendance if that would make you feel safer," he offered.

Harry shook his head. "I don't want him coming here," he said softly. He was still a little angry at the man for not coming to visit sooner. When he'd needed him.

"Has this been going on the entire time?" asked Snape.

Harry glanced up and noticed the man looked like he was bracing himself for something. Harry frowned at him for a moment, not understanding what the look was for.

"Yeah, sorta," he answered slowly, and watched in growing trepidation as the man clenched his fists tightly against his thighs.

"You were speaking the truth the entire time and I didn't believe you."

Ah, so that's why he was so angry. He was upset at himself. And as he should be, though Harry, just a trifle condescendingly. Snape should have realized.

"Yeah."

"I apologize, Mr. Potter. Had I known what was happening, I would have put a stop to it immediately. May I inquire as to why you didn't tell me?" asked Snape, simply curious as to what the reason had been. As it was obvious the boy hadn't felt he could tell him what was transpiring in his home.

Harry frowned. He didn't really want to make the man feel bad by giving him his answer, but he supposed he asked for it. "He threatened to hurt me more, for one…" he said shortly. "And he told me you wouldn't believe me if I told you…and I did believe that. Because you didn't believe me the first time I told you."

Snape nodded. "I thought Edwin was speaking the truth," he said softly. "That was my mistake. Something you won't have to worry about any longer."

Harry nodded too. "Okay," he said softly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Couldn't you tell with legilimency what was going on with him and me?" he asked determinedly.

Snape took in a deep breath. "Actually, I was attempting to not use it on you after you got so upset when I did it previously. I wanted to gain your trust, not destroy it."

Harry pursed his lips, nodding. "I noticed you weren't using it as often. But, didn't you ever use it on Kirkpatrick?"

"No, I never did. I didn't have any reason to see into his mind. And, unless he makes eye contact, it's rather difficult to see into his thoughts."

"Oh," said Harry, storing that little tidbit of information away for future reference.

"Where did Kirkpatrick go?" he suddenly asked, needing to know.

"He's in the village obtaining lodgings," said Snape.

Harry's eyes widened. "But…"

"He won't be coming back, Potter. The wards won't permit it as I've changed them just a moment ago. And, I've alerted the village's constable. He won't be staying for long, I'd ascertain. At least, not in comfortable lodgings. I'm certain the jail house will be slightly more uncomfortable."

"But, won't they need my testimony or something?" asked Harry.

"No. Because Edwin won't be able to help but tell the truth and with his own testimony, he'll be going to jail without yours," Snape replied with a small smirk.

"Oh, good then," said Harry softly.

"Do you believe you can come out for dinner now?"

"Yeah, I am a little hungry," Harry stood up from the bed and followed Snape into the kitchen, feeling as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders. He couldn't help but be curious as to how things would go between the two of them from now on, but hoped it wouldn't be as bad as before. He wanted to have a peaceful time now considering he was sick of being hurt and just wanted to rest. Harry was even willing to _try_ to be less of a pain in the arse if things could just calm down.

He was ready to try.


	6. Chapter 6

Upon entering the kitchen, Harry immediately sat in the chair facing the window

Upon entering the kitchen, Harry immediately sat in the chair facing the window. The moon was out and illuminating the lighthouse and the cliffs just beyond it. It really was quite beautiful here. Too bad he hadn't had a chance to really appreciate it.

Looking up, Harry realized Snape was no longer in the kitchen. Curious, he stood up to look out the doorway and down the hall when the man suddenly reappeared. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter," Snape instructed, handing him a jar containing what appeared to be a healing potion.

"What's this for?" asked Harry.

"Apply it to your cheek. There is a bruise forming there," his Professor informed him, so Harry opened the jar and took a glob out onto his palm.

"Not quite so much. A few dabs will be more than sufficient," Snape corrected him.

Harry wiped the excess on the edge of the jar and watched as it plopped back into the contents of it. Then he rubbed the remainder on his hand onto his cheek. Upon touching the bruised area Harry flinched at the pain. It was odd that he hadn't really felt it until then.

As Harry was closing the jar, he nearly came out of his skin as Snape suddenly reached across the table and undid the top of his robe, revealing his swollen and no doubt much bruised neck. The man's eyes widened remarkably causing Harry to lower his head in shame.

A strong hand gently grasped his chin and tilted his head until his neck was once more visible. Harry couldn't meet the man's eyes, still feeling too low to so much as look at him. He didn't know why he felt so ashamed. It wasn't as if it was his fault. But, he felt as if he should have somehow been able to stop Kirkpatrick. But, the more he thought on it, the more he did know that it was partly his fault, seeing as how he hadn't exactly been cooperative with either of the men. He was honestly surprised Snape hadn't resorted to the same abusive tendencies. He was just happy that he hadn't.

"What happened while I was away?" he asked tentatively. He opened the jar again and motioned for Harry to apply some to his tender neck as well. When he apparently missed a spot, Snape scooped a bit onto his fingers and rubbed it in himself. It was all Harry could do not to flinch from the touch, and it was obvious Snape saw the fearful look in his eyes as well. "You never have to fear me, Potter. Unlike that dastardly man in my employ, I will never strike a child. You have my word on that."

Harry nodded his head after a moment of contemplation. If the man had wanted to hit him, he'd had ample opportunity since Harry had arrived, as he knew he'd been no peach to live with.

"Potter, what happened?" he repeated. "Obviously, Edwin strangled you. I saw that for myself in your bedroom. But, I get the distinct impression those bruises were from more than one incident. You and I both know you weren't sick, either. I assume Edwin made up the lie that you were ill?" asked Snape, hoping to get the floodgates to open.

"Well, yeah…" he started slowly. Staring at his hands for a moment, Harry tried to decide whether he truly wanted to divulge all this information to his professor. It wasn't as if he would care or anything. So what was the point? And in a warped little way, Harry sort of blamed Snape for what had happened to him. If he hadn't left him alone with Kirkpatrick, he wouldn't be the way he was right now. It wasn't exactly enjoyable to feel constantly on edge, afraid all the time, worried about what insanity Kirkpatrick was going to come up with next. It didn't help that Kirkpatrick was gone; he still felt the same way. And Snape had left him alone.

Slowly letting out the breath he had been holding, Harry glanced up to his teacher. And damn it all if the man didn't look at least a little bit concerned. "I…" again he cut himself off. This was proving to be more difficult than he thought it should be.

"If it is too difficult to speak of, and if you're amendable to the idea, I could use legilimency," suggested Snape hesitantly. As if he honestly didn't want to use the ability on him unless Harry absolutely agreed to it.

The concept was actually a bit hard for Harry to grasp. That Snape would even be hesitant in regards to using legilimency, considering he'd shown no compassion at all when he'd previously delved into his head without permission. Harry did in fact realize that Snape had taken it upon himself to restrict his use of the ability due to his own wish for Snape to stop attacking him with it, because that was certainly what it felt like. An attack. And now that he was asking permission…it just showed how much Snape was really trying. And it made Harry feel a teensy bit bad considering his earlier thoughts. But just barely.

Harry really weighed the pros and cons of having the man examine his head the way he wanted to. There were certainly memories he didn't want his teacher to see. Though, he had to wonder if Snape hadn't already seen them. It didn't really matter one way or the other, though, did it? If Snape wanted to find out what happened, he would find a way. Besides, would it be wrong of Harry to sort of want to tell Snape just to make him feel bad? He thought it was mean of him, but in another sense, he still thought his professor should have protected him more than he had.

Only feeling slightly guilty about it, Harry made his decision. "Yeah, go ahead and do the mind reading thing," he whispered, just a little bit apprehensive despite his motives.

Without further ado, it seemed, Snape pulled his chair closer to Harry's until their knees were practically touching. His attention momentarily focused on his professor's pants. They were black, which wasn't much of a shock, and they looked well worn. Were his shirts the same color, he wondered. His robes hid that much and Harry honestly couldn't be certain. For all he knew, the man wore brightly colored undershirts beneath his robes. At the image that came to mind, however, Harry grimaced. It actually wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Potter," said gently but firmly. "Are you prepared? Don't fight the intrusion, difficult as that may be, but merely let me in. I'll attempt to make this as quick as possible. Ready?" he asked. Harry expected the man to jump right in, but he actually waited until the boy nodded his head before proceeding. Once more, Harry felt a smidgeon of guilt for wanting to make his teacher feel guilty.

Any other thoughts were dismissed when he suddenly felt Snape entering his mind, his thoughts, and thereby the memories of what had transpired in the basement. Not a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination, but he remembered that Snape had told him not to fight the intrusion. Yeah, easier said than done. It took everything in him not to fight back and try to shove the intrusion from his thoughts. But he didn't. He did actually want the older man to see what had happened to him.

Oddly enough, Harry found himself occasionally feeling a flash of Snape's feelings as he was viewing the scenes from his memories from when he'd been away…and left him alone with Kirkpatrick. A sudden sense of shock that was not his own was the first sign he'd gotten that he wasn't feeling his own feeling's but Snape's. Quite interesting, really. Especially when he knew what memories were causing them. It was the strangulation portion of his memories that caused a shocked and mildly disturbed emotion to filter through to Harry's consciousness, emanating from the Professor. The man honestly hadn't realized he'd been housing a psycho who not only enjoyed abusing children, but also had a crush on his landlord. Gross.

When Snape had perused all of Harry's memories involving Kirkpatrick he pulled out of Harry's memories and sat quietly in his chair. Harry assumed the man was contemplating all that he had witnessed.

"I had not realized, truly, the depth of his depravity," Snape said slowly, as if coming out of a dream. Which, Harry supposed, that was probably what it felt like. "What I witnessed in your bedroom…I assumed it was the worst of it, a one time occurrence…that Edwin had been overcome with some fit of rage. I had no idea…" he trailed off, something Harry noticed the man was doing quite a lot as he tried to come to terms with the entire thing. Simply stated, Harry wasn't sure where Snape was going with this.

"What, did you think I'd set him off or something?" he asked, truly wondering. Honestly, did he think it was Harry's fault? Because, he'd been sort of contemplating the same thing.

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind," said Snape gently. "You haven't exactly been the epitome of a well behaved child while you've been here."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I know that. But, I didn't do anything to really piss him off," he started. "At least, not in the way I normally would. I mean, I'm sure I piss…"

"Potter, stop saying pissed," interrupted Snape.

Taking the rebuke in stride, which surprised the hell out of Snape, Harry kept talking as if he hadn't ever been interrupted, "Sorry. I know I made him angry though, because I told him…" he trailed off this time, knowing it was probably a touchy subject for the man. The part he figured that had really made Kirkpatrick lose his bloody head.

"I know what you told him," assured Snape. "That you meant to tell me what had been transpiring between the two of you. And how he felt about me," Snape summed it up in a nutshell, but with a queasy look on his face.

Harry nodded, a tinge of embarrassment making his face flame lightly. It was very odd talking about this with his professor. More so than he probably realized. Though, considering Snape had been on the receiving end of the man's 'love', Harry figured Snape was pretty well mortified himself.

As if to get them on another subject, Snape started prodding him with his wand. "Are you injured anywhere else?" he asked, waving his wand around Harry's body.

"N-no, why?" asked Harry, watching as the tip of the wand glowed as it passed over certain parts of his body.

"You took quite a few severe hits from the man, that's why," said Snape angrily, though Harry could somehow tell that his professor wasn't angry at him. "And I'm surprised you're not complaining more about your back. It's rather bruised from the fall you took."

Harry knew when the man stood up and walked around him what he had in mind, but he still flinched slightly as he felt his t-shirt pulled up.

"All right, Potter?" his shirt was mid-way up his back and he could tell that Snape wouldn't go any further until he had his permission, like before with the legilimency. It didn't really matter if he even gave his permission, though, because Harry was beginning to realize that he was having some issues letting people near him. He knew it was Kirkpatrick's fault. The ruddy bastard. He wasn't like this…well, he wasn't like this as much…before Kirkpatrick's stupid arse came in the picture.

"Did I hurt you?" Snape prodded when an answer wasn't forthcoming.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said, pulling himself from his thoughts. He really had to quit doing that. He thought too damn much.

"You're certain?" Snape said it like he didn't believe him, and Harry couldn't really summon the energy to care.

"Yeah, sure, I'm good." Yeah, that didn't sound as if he were lying…no, not at all. Hearing a noise from Snape that clearly showed he didn't believe him for a second made Harry fidget just a bit, wondering when the other shoe would drop. But, to Harry's relief, he didn't question him further. At least, not about the flinching.

"Potter, you have a mass of bruises on your back," he said dryly. "Is there a reason you would not tell me about them when I had the healing potion out earlier?"

Harry shrugged. He was used to not complaining. It just came as second nature to him. Why complain when nothing would be done about it? He'd fallen and scraped the holy hell out of his hands, knees, and even his chin when he had been the wee age of five. It was probably the most pronounced memory he had because it was the first time he'd seriously injured himself…for one…and for two, he'd realized just how much his family didn't give a damn about him. He'd been bleeding pretty profusely at the time and he'd gone straight to his aunt, hoping that the woman would actually show some emotion towards him considering he was seriously hurt. At least, to his five year old mind he was seriously hurt. She always doubled her emotional outbursts whenever Dudley was injured, so he had figured that since she didn't show him any love and affection when he was his normal self, he should at least get some sort of positive attention out of her if he was injured.

Yeah, not so much. It was the exact opposite, really. She'd gotten royally flaming pissed at him was what happened. Quite the opposite of what young little Harry had been expecting, he thought wryly. Instead of compassion or any kind of care due to his wounds, his aunt had grabbed his wrists and wrapped them in her apron of all things, screaming at him all the while for getting blood all over the kitchen floor. She continued with her less than caring behavior by smacking him upside the head, calling him a worthless brat of a child, apparently because he couldn't stop the bleeding before he'd come inside, and proceeded to drag him up to the bathroom where she finally tended to his wounds. However, gentle wasn't the word Harry would use for how she cleaned them. He still cringed even now as he thought about the cold alcohol as she poured it over his hands, knees, and tilting his head back so hard his neck had hurt, his chin. All this while he stood bawling in the bath tub.

It wasn't a pleasant memory and even then, at that young age, he'd realized he would never be loved or cared for. He learned no one would be there for him when he needed them. He found out he would have to take care of himself because no one else ever would. So Snape wondered why he hadn't told him he was in pain and that he had more than one set of bruises on his body. That was the answer.

"Potter?" Snape was standing in front of him now, holding both his shoulders in his hands, and looking so much like a concerned parent that Harry almost laughed. Like that would ever happen. "Are you quite all right?" he asked, apparently for the tenth time, because he certainly looked on the cusp of shaking him. "Potter!"

That broke Harry out of his temporary trance into his crummy past. "What?!" he yelled in return, and while he was at it, he shook his shoulders until the man released him.

Snape took a step away and brushed down the front of his shirt and pants as he stood up straight, almost as if he were composing himself. "You were not responding," he said shortly. "And refrain from using that tone with me," he added a moment later.

"What tone?" asked Harry in the same tone he'd been using previously. After having to relive his memories of Kirkpatrick's abuse and then remembering what his aunt had done to him, Harry suddenly found he was reverting back to his angry self again. He didn't really know why, but he found it was the easiest way to cope with a situation. Especially considering the person he was yelling at usually sent him away sooner rather than later.

And in this case, it looked like it was going to be later.

"Sit down," said Snape.

"No," returned Harry, making his way for the door. If he wasn't going to be sent to his room, he'd send himself there. It'd be quicker any ways.

However, the locked door was kind of hindering this idea. "Let me out," he hissed, turning slowly around to face his sudden nemesis. "I want out!"

"I honestly don't care what you want right now, Mr. Potter. We're going to discuss your destructive behavior whether you wish it or not." And apparently Snape was reverting back to his 'I'm a bad ass' self. Harry hadn't realized how nice the man had been until just now.

"And I don't care what you want!" he spat back. "Let me out!"

"Sit down," Snape repeated, his face conveying that he was trying to remain calm, but his clenched fists showed that he was rather on the opposite spectrum from that.

"I don't want to!"

"Potter, you have more issues than you know how to handle. If you don't discuss them, you won't deal with them, thereby becoming an even larger pain in my arse than you already are! Now, sit down so that we might confer!"

Harry stopped, so shocked by the words that had come out of Snape's mouth that he actually didn't have a scathing reply at the ready. He obviously knew that he was a pain in the arse, but to actually hear Snape say it. That was interesting. He must be pushing a bit harder than he realized he was. In which case, he figured he was that much closer to Snape giving up and letting him leave.

Turning around, he pulled on the door knob again, expecting results but once more not receiving them. "Just let me out!" he yelled, still pulling on the door and therefore not noticing that Snape had come up right behind him. A hand was placed on his shoulder, but unfortunately, it was placed too close to his neck and with a little more force than Harry could currently handle. And he'd been strangled once too many times to even be close to handling it. A scream pierced the room; one he wouldn't realize was his until later, as he suddenly flung his arm up and knocked the offending hand away. His footsteps stuttered backwards until he hit the wall, and even then he kept moving, trying to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as possible.

Once he finally reached a suitably safe corner, Harry slid down the wall and into the crevice, holding his legs tight to his chest. It took nearly five minutes before Harry finally stopped trembling. He noticed because the plates in the cupboard beside him had stopped rattling. It took another few minutes of Snape's calm assurances before he could even manage to bring himself out from his seemingly safe place. And even after that he'd have strange moments when he was just certain that Kirkpatrick was somewhere in the house with them. His anger resurfaced, but just for a moment, and presented itself by Harry kicking out at the chair that was in front of him. It faded after that, and he realized he was more upset at himself for completely losing it than anything else.

After having the life thoroughly scared right on out of him, Harry was more than willing to sit down. But not so willing to talk.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair and glanced up long enough to see that Snape was sitting in the chair he'd kicked just a moment before, staring at him. Harry quickly looked down, feeling a teensy bit embarrassed now that he was calmer. "I'm still not going to talk," he said petulantly. Or he tried to sound petulant, but his cracking voice made him sound a lot more vulnerable than he had intended.

"Very well," he responded and Harry looked up suspiciously. He'd given that up a hell of a lot easier than Harry thought was possible given the whole '_We're going to discuss your destructive behavior whether you wish it or not'_ attitude he'd had going on earlier.

"Very well?" returned Harry curiously. His voice still sounded too shaky for comfort, but it wasn't as if that had been a comforting experience he'd just had. In fact, he had probably more than earned the shaky voice.

"Yes, you're obviously not ready and I apologize. Your encounter with Edwin…"

"Would you stop calling him Edwin!" Harry suddenly shrieked. "It's like you're still friends with him or something! Like what he did to me doesn't even matter! Once I'm gone you'll probably let him come right back, won't you?" he asked, before being hit with an even more disturbing idea. "Or is he even gone?!" his voice rising as his paranoia increased. "He's been your friend for what, forever? Why would you send him away? I bet you didn't even tell the constable…"

Snape grabbed his arms, but having seen him coming, Harry didn't react quite the way he did before. But just the same…flinching, he tried to pull away but his professor was surprisingly strong, and surprisingly gentle given the circumstances.

"Potter, for the love of Merlin, calm yourself!"

"I am calm!" he said back, however hysterical he might have been.

Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Potter," he said very gently, which actually garnered Harry's attention more fully than had he yelled it like previously.

"What?"

"_Kirkpatrick_," he began, really emphasizing the term he had used, "will not be returning here, even long after you've gone. Furthermore, though he was my friend once, he is no longer. What he did to you is unforgivable and he will never be permitted on my land again," he said adamantly. "Whether you believe that or not is up to you, but you have my word."

Harry stared at him for a few moments and was rather surprised at himself when he believed the man.

"You're being a lot nicer about this whole thing than I thought you would be," said Harry suddenly.

Snape just stared at him. "I hardly think my usual dour self would be sufficient in your healing, Mr. Potter."

"Healing?" asked Harry dubiously.

"Certainly. You're suffering from survivor's guilt, depression, disassociation, and most recently, child abuse."

Harry shifted in his seat. "You make me sound like some kind of head case," he said uncertainly. "Survivor's guilt?" he asked, thinking the name sounded about dead on to what he was feeling. "Because of Cedric?" he continued softly.

"Yes," Snape stood up from the seat he had reclaimed after Harry's impromptu panic attack and moved closer to the boy. "I also think that is part of why you're so angry all the time."

Harry nodded. "I don't think I'm depressed though," he added a moment later.

"You don't? There's more to depression than just melancholy. I think you're mainly expressing it through your anger, however. And, perhaps I'm wrong. I'm not a certified therapist or any such thing, however, some of your behavior hinted at it. Pushing away your friends when classes were still in session for example."

At the mention of his friends Harry suddenly felt ten times worse. He actually hadn't thought about them at all the entire time he'd been here. He'd either been too angry, irritated, or afraid to even give them a moment's notice. It made him feel awful. Harry sighed. "I'm not sure why I did that," he said a moment later. "I guess I just wanted to distance myself from them."

"Yes, I noticed," said Snape dryly.

Harry glared at him. "What else was I supposed to do? They were too pushy! I wasn't ready to talk to them. Kind of like I'm not ready to talk to you," he said, but he wasn't exactly angry. He wasn't sure how he felt, honestly.

Snape finally seemed to take the hint. It was about damn time, too.

"Then we won't discuss anything more this evening. It's getting rather late, besides. Perhaps you should turn in for the evening given the more than stressful day you've had."

Harry agreed with that whole-heartedly. He felt beyond tired, actually. Like he could pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow…so long as there were no nightmares, that was a given. He thought about asking Snape for some Dreamless Sleep, but didn't want to start another drawn out conversation on why he needed it.

Taking the opportunity given to him, Harry said goodnight to the man and quickly walked down the hallway to his bedroom. His door was ajar, though he normally kept it shut. Though, he couldn't remember shutting it when he and Snape had left his room. He wondered why his tired brain even cared and slipped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Changing out of his clothes and into his pajamas, Harry climbed into his bed and found himself staring at the ceiling. He noticed a moment later that his back didn't hurt, though he thought it should considering his back was bruised like crazy. Sitting up, he walked over to the closet and pulled open the door to reveal the mirror that was dangling on the inside of it. Turning around, he gently raised his shirt and stared at his completely flawless back. It finally occurred to Harry that while he had been in his own little world thinking about his stupid aunt, Snape must have applied the healing potion and he just hadn't noticed.

He dropped his shirt at a knock on the door. "Come in," he said, knowing it could be only one person and it wasn't as if he could honestly keep him out. And, after he saw that Snape had healed him, he was feeling just a little bit generous any ways.

"I thought you might need this," Snape came the rest of the way into his room and sat a bottle on his nightstand. Dreamless Sleep. As the door shut lightly behind the man Harry found a small smile finally working its way across his face. The first one in a long time.

Apparently Professor Snape was feeling a little generous himself.

………………………………………………….


	7. Chapter 7

"Is this what you wanted, Professor?" Harry brought the red plant that he'd found from outside in the garden over to the table Professor Snape was currently working at in the laboratory. The same laboratory he had painstakingly painted a hideous color mere days before. It had been difficult that morning to open the basement door and enter the room after everything he'd endured. He was beginning to think of the basement as the depths of despair. Dramatic? Yes, but he hated it down here.

"Yes, that's the one." Snape picked up a short knife and handed it to Harry, handle first. "Use this and cut it into thin strips. Eight total should be sufficient," he instructed, before turning his attention back to his meticulous stirring.

Harry nodded absentmindedly and set the plant down on the table proceeding to hack away at said plant. A strong hand wrapped around his wrist and stilled his movements. "Cut, Mr. Potter, do not chop it into ruin. You'll damage the potion if it isn't done precisely as I say," Snape said sternly. "Try to pay attention."

His professor definitely didn't know what he was asking of him. Paying attention was more difficult than it should have been, and he was surprised Snape hadn't thrown him out of the laboratory yet for irritating him half to death. Everything Snape had asked of him he'd done wrong. Well, all except finding the correct plant from outside. Though, he figured he'd technically messed that up too, considering the hack job he'd done of cutting it.

He realized his attention had been wandering yet again when his Professor suddenly took his chin and forcibly, yet gently, turned his face so their eyes met. Snape didn't say anything at first, just looked into his eyes. Harry could tell the man wasn't legilimizing him or any such thing, but merely watching him.

"What?" Harry asked self-consciously a few moments later, tearing his eyes away from the intense onyx ones.

Instead of saying anything, his Professor went back to stirring the potion, which had suddenly turned a light red color. Harry waited a few more moments and when still nothing was said, he picked up the knife and started cutting the plant again, this time correctly. The concentration it took to make sure he didn't mess it up a second time actually kept his thoughts from drifting to Kirkpatrick and what he'd experienced down in the basement with him. However, as soon as he was finished with that chore, his mind drifted once again.

Instinctively, he felt eyes watching him and glanced up in time to see Snape's face turning away. He'd been watching him. Harry was waiting for the rebuke or to be yelled at to get out of the laboratory. But neither came.

"If you would prefer to work on the lighthouse that would be acceptable," Snape suggested out of the blue.

Harry glanced sideways at him. "But you said I had to work with you today," he reminded the man, recalling their conversation after he'd gotten up that morning. "So you could keep an eye on me since my throat swelled up so much last night." It had been quite a scare, actually. He'd been in his bedroom at the time, well past midnight, when he'd had a coughing fit the likes of which his already damaged throat hadn't been able to withstand. Breathing had become difficult, and he'd been forced to go to Snape for help. The man had honestly seemed concerned.

"You seem to be doing fine, Potter. Your throat isn't still aggravating you, is it?" asked Snape.

Harry swallowed and cleared his throat to test it. "No, its fine," he answered cautiously. It was still a bit sore, but nothing like it had been previously. Snape's remedy really did its job.

Obviously, however, Harry's answer wasn't good enough for Snape since a moment later the man's large hands were cupping either side of his neck. "I'll be the judge of that," he said, indicating that he wanted Harry to open his mouth. Harry did so, trying hard not to jerk away from the man. He hated the feeling of hands around his neck, for obvious reasons. Snape ran his thumbs up the column of Harry's throat and pressed lightly in certain areas. "I need you to cough," he instructed. He did that too, and after it only left a slight tickle in his throat, Snape found he was sufficiently healed.

"Are you sure you don't need me to help out more with the potion?" he asked, clearly not wanting to have to stay, but feeling obligated to ask.

Snape watched him for a moment. "Your assistance isn't necessary, no. However, it occurs to me that you might not want to be isolated in the lighthouse, either."

Harry glanced up at him before averting his eyes. "I wasn't asking if you wanted help to get out of working in the lighthouse," he thought to say. Snape probably thought he would want to get out of the grunt work that would be required. "I just…" he trailed off, not wanting to sound like an ungrateful little brat.

"You just didn't want to walk away from your self-given commitment?" inquired the Professor. Snape sighed at the confused look on the boy's face. "What I'm trying to get across is you don't have to stay here, nor do you have to go to the lighthouse. You could make yourself useful in the house, if you were so inclined."

It was beginning to occur to Harry that Snape was giving him the option to stay away from the two places where Kirkpatrick had abused him. He thought it was pretty thoughtful of the man, considering. Smiling timidly, Harry nodded that he acknowledged what the man was offering. "If you don't mind then, would it be okay if I just cleaned or something?" he asked, knowing it was one thing he was really good at.

Even though he was the one who had suggested it, Snape seemed surprised. "You enjoy cleaning?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, no, not really. But, I'm good at it. I got lots of practice at the Dursley's."

"Ah, your daily chores then?" inquired Snape.

Well, he wouldn't exactly call them chores, since he was more or less their slave. He preferred to think of it as work, if anything. Chores would imply he could talk his way out of doing them, as he knew most of his friends had done on more than one occasion. In his case, there were dire consequences if they weren't completed. He knew none of his friends had to deal with those types of consequences for not finishing their chores. His stomach suddenly clenched in painful remembrance of the many meals that he was deprived of. And there were quite a few.

"Potter, are you all right?" Snape had moved closer and was standing toe to toe with him, staring in his eyes. It was disconcerting.

Harry flinched away before the man had a chance to legilimize him.

Sighing, the Professor took back the steps he had gained on the boy. "Perhaps you should rest," he finally said after a moment's pause.

"I'm fine," said Harry, still not meeting the man's eyes.

Snape suddenly took Harry by the shoulders and spoke in a tone that Harry couldn't ignore. "I wouldn't violate you in that way again, Potter. You needn't fear that from me," he said, meeting the boy's eyes as he finally looked up. "Never again, without your permission. You have my word."

This was an odd turn of conversation, but Harry was willing to go with it, since this was something he often worried about. The man had seemed more inclined not to do it without his permission recently, but the fact that he had done it at all made him wonder if it was something Snape would really stop himself from doing. And now with the intensity in the man's eyes, such conviction, Harry knew it to be true. It would never happen again, at least not without his permission.

"I believe you," answered Harry a few minutes later.

"Thank you," returned Snape. "Now, I really do believe you should rest. You haven't done nearly enough of that. I had intended for you to spend a quiet day in. Quite frankly, I thought helping with potions would be something that would relax you, as it does me. This has not been the case," he paused at Harry's undisguised snort. "as you clearly do not enjoy the fine art of potions," he finished with a sarcastic look in the boy's direction.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you would have figured that out from Potions class."

Nodding his head in agreement, "Yes, I had noticed your work was lackluster at best."

That kind of stung. "I'm not that bad."

Snape glanced over at him. "Are you not?"

Harry thought that last was a bit below the belt. "Why are you being so mean?" he blurted out and felt like an idiot when Snape's head shot up in surprise.

"I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just being honest," he said softly. "But that's beyond the point. I truly believe you need to rest, Potter."

This time he wasn't waiting for Harry to take the incentive and go upstairs. Gently grabbing him by the arm, Harry found himself being led up the stairs by his Professor. They crossed through Snape's rooms, which Harry still found just a little bit odd. It just was surprising that he was even allowed in them. Even if it was just to get into the basement.

In the hallway outside of Harry's room, Snape held the door opened and then seemed to pause in thought. There had been more than just two places Harry had been abused by Kirkpatrick. Glancing in the room, at the bed to be precise, and then back at Harry, Snape seemed to be realizing that fact.

"Perhaps you would prefer the couch?" he said suddenly. Harry almost laughed. Having Snape of all people being considerate of his needs…well, it just wasn't what he had been expecting at all.

Harry stopped to actually think about it. He hadn't slept very well during the night and it was because he kept expecting someone to jump out at him from the shadows. It was ridiculous and felt seemingly childish to feel that way, but he couldn't help it. That's how he felt. Sleeping on the couch for the time being sounded like a great idea. It was open and the light streamed through the windows making it seem a lot more comfortable than his dark and depressing room. He did realize it hadn't seemed that way until after Kirkpatrick.

He sighed. "Yeah, I'll take the couch if you don't mind," he said. He wasn't exactly tired, but he didn't want Snape hovering all over him either. He needed some time to think.

When his Professor left the room, Harry collapsed onto the couch and curled onto his side. It was a little uncomfortable, so he grabbed a throw pillow from the chair nearest to him and stuffed it under his head. That was better. He had just gotten settled when Snape came back in.

"Here, I thought you might need this," he said as he unfolded a thick blanket and carefully draped it over the boy.

Harry stared at him. "Thank you," he finally muttered.

Snape had started out of the room already but paused on his way out. "You're welcome."

………………………………..

It had been a long time since he'd even thought about it. He supposed all the issues with coming to stay with Snape, dealing with Kirkpatrick, and everything in between had caused his thoughts to drift. But, now there seemed to be no end of thoughts he didn't really want to have. However, he did notice a change in them. They weren't as all consuming. It didn't make him angry anymore. But he didn't think he'd ever stop feeling bad about it. Or blaming himself for his death. Poor Cedric. If only he hadn't taken the cup with him, he'd still be alive. But if only's didn't get him anywhere, so he turned over on the couch and tried to think of something else.

It was difficult, Cedric's face kept flashing before his eyes, and it made him sad. After a few minutes he finally started to drift into sleep, though he hadn't thought he was tired. He had kicked the blanket off that Snape had brought him earlier, but now he was starting to get chilled. Leaning down sleepily, he grasped blindly for the beige blanket and pulled it up to his chin. With that accomplished, his eyes slowly closed and he knew no more.

But only briefly.

The nightmare took him by surprise. He just hadn't expected to have one in the middle of the day, lying on the couch with the sun shining brightly in the window. It just hadn't seemed plausible. But here he was, screaming his head off and trying futilely to get untangled from the blanket that he had somehow managed to get wrapped around his legs. It was mainly this problem that was keeping him from completely waking up. He thought he was being subdued, held down, but it was just the blanket. Something he couldn't see yet.

He felt someone grab his arms then, knocking them away, and suddenly hands were yanking at his legs, but then he could move and he practically fell off the couch. The same person who had freed him from the restraining force was currently steadying him on the couch.

"Potter, breathe!"

Harry hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. After taking in a deep shuddering breath the world around him finally came into focus.

If anything, after all that thinking before falling asleep, he would have thought his nightmares would be about Cedric. But, surprisingly, they were about Kirkpatrick. It was a little disconcerting.

Having hands suddenly on his throat made him lash out in fear. He kicked his foot straight into the man's stomach that was hovering over him. It wasn't until the man was on the floor, gasping for his own breath, that he realized it was Snape. And that his Professor probably thought his throat had swollen up again the way he'd been reacting to the nightmare, hence the hands on his throat.

Snape glared at him. "Was that absolutely necessary?" he asked, his gaze withering.

Harry cringed. "I'm so sorry, Professor. I thought you were…someone else," he ended lamely.

Snape's angry expression melted away completely. "Are you all right?" he asked, calmly getting to his feet and very slowly, he sat down beside him on the couch.

Harry scooted over a bit so he could have more room. "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine. Nightmare," he said by way of explanation.

"Kirkpatrick?" asked Snape, as if clarification was needed. It was pretty obvious what the nightmare had been about. But sometimes clarification was needed.

Nodding a little self-consciously, Harry felt like an idiot having reacted as he did, he pulled his legs up until he could rest his chin on his knees. "Stupid, eh?"

"Definitely not," Snape said vehemently. "Your experience with Kirkpatrick was disturbing at the least. Having nightmares about him is only normal."

Harry sat silently. What the Professor said was probably true, but he still felt like an imbecile just the same. Idly twirling a loose strand from the blanket Snape had brought him earlier, he didn't notice Snape had moved until he felt a hand skimming down the back of his hair. After a few moments of the comforting touch, it settled at the nape of his neck. Harry glanced up then. It hadn't gotten past his attention that Snape had a little bit of a tendency to act…well, like he gave a damn, when the occasion arose. Such as when Harry was feeling particularly low.

Having almost not noticed at first, Harry found himself more attuned to it now. Probably because he never in a million gazillion years believed Professor Snape would feel anything but loathing for him. And probably also because he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would. He wanted someone to care about him, more than anything, and he was beginning to entertain the notion that maybe Snape wouldn't mind having someone to care about. However, he never mentioned it aloud. Shattering his dreams weren't on his list of things to do anytime soon. Because even though he was beginning to realize it would be nice, he still wasn't deluding himself that Snape wouldn't drop him like a hot potato once summer vacation was over.

Any lingering pleasant mood he'd hung onto instantly vanished in that instant. Suddenly the hand on his neck moved so that an entire arm was wrapped around his shoulders and he found himself leaning against his Professor. Awkward. But still nice, though he would never admit it.

"Your mood shifts from one extreme to the other quite frequently," said Snape unexpectedly, his tone indicating that he was pointing something out to himself, though he obviously was trying to get a point across to Harry, too. "What goes through your head that makes you so miserable?" he paused, considering something, then continued, "Is it Diggory?" he asked.

It was a valid concern considering it had been the cause of all the uproar when he'd first arrived. However, that seemed like such a distant memory now. Not that he didn't still think about it, he did, obviously. But, it wasn't as painful anymore. Time heals all wounds, or so they said. Harry personally thought that was a load of crap. How could time heal the loss of someone you were close to? But, in his case, he hadn't been exactly close to him. It had been the guilt which had eaten him alive. And now the guilt wasn't as all consuming as it had been. He knew what-if's would only make it worse, so he'd given up on that. You couldn't change the past.

When an answer wasn't quickly supplied, Snape jumped to the next possible reason. "If not Diggory, then Kirkpatrick?" he asked, his tone suddenly filled with a menace Harry hadn't ever heard from the man before. Was he upset about it, then? That Kirkpatrick had abused him on more than one occasion? Or was he angry that he'd lost a friend over his stupid little summer dweller? He didn't know where the last thought came from. Snape had been nothing but welcoming from the start…well, for the most part. At least he'd been more considerate than he'd ever thought the man would be.

His thoughts were all over the place, he realized. Pick one and stick with it, he thought. Snape thought one thing and Harry was thinking another. It was a bit bewildering and overwhelming and he wondered if he wasn't getting ahead of himself with the whole 'father who could possibly care about me' thing. Like distant repressed needs showing themselves in his time of weakness. Wow, that was pretty deep, even for him. Deciding Snape was going to think he'd completely lost it if he didn't start speaking soon, he finally answered. Or said what he figured his Professor would want to hear. No one wanted to deal with him and his ruddy emotional upheavals.

"Nothing's wrong," he finally provided. "I'm just thinking. About a lot of things," he thought to add considering it was true.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Snape asked.

Harry shivered, though he wasn't cold. He couldn't imagine talking about any of those things with Snape. He'd probably laugh in his face. Snape took hold of the blanket Harry had been messing with and drew it closer around his much smaller frame. Ah. Snape must have thought he was cold when he shivered. It was a nice, parental thing to do, he thought.

Pulling himself back together, Harry glanced up at his teacher. "No, I don't think so. Not right now, at least," he amended at the calculating look Snape threw at him.

"I'm willing to listen whenever you're ready," Snape said. He stood up and glanced at the clock on the living room wall. It was well past dinner time. "Are you hungry?"

Harry wasn't starving, and he certainly didn't feel like cooking anything. Snape had discovered earlier that he could actually put a meal on the table that rivaled anything the man could make. He was damn good at it, but Snape didn't realize all the practice he'd gotten due to his relatives was the reason why. And if Snape asked him to cook, Harry felt it was the least he could do, even though he absolutely loathed doing it.

"How about some soup?" suggested Snape. "Something thick and warm for your throat."

Harry nodded resignedly and started to get up from the couch. Cooking was the last thing he wanted to do. "Sure," he said despite his feelings on the subject. "Tomato?" It sounded good at least. Some grilled cheese to go with it sounded even better, now that he was thinking about it. Though he still preferred to rest a bit. He was much tired now.

Snape grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back to the sofa. "Rest, I believe I told you. I'll fix the meal for this evening," he said, a slight smile resting on his lips. "I'm quite capable."

This was a welcome surprise and he did as instructed, easing himself back onto the couch. "Do you need any help?" he asked just to be polite.

"No," was the only answer he received.

……………………………….

The following two weeks passed in a blur for the most part. Harry kept himself busy by finishing up with the lighthouse, which wasn't as frightening to be in as he had originally assumed. It helped that Snape was with him a majority of the time and that every other second was spent doing busy work. It facilitated in the 'don't think about it' category. In the end, all the changes made to the lighthouse alleviated the anxiety he normally would have suffered. He liked the place and went there on his own if he wasn't busy in the house or helping Snape with his potions. The latter being something he'd picked up to make Snape happy. For whatever reason the man seemed to enjoy his company. Who would have thought?

In the evenings, Harry would stay out on the couch sitting with his Professor as the man read the newspaper or they occasionally played Wizard's Chess or just sat comfortably and talked about the day's events. Sometimes Harry even broke down and discussed the things which plagued him. Cedric and Kirkpatrick being the hardest of the lot.

The conversation regarding Diggory had been difficult at best. Snape had pointed out Harry's propensity to blame himself for the other boy's death. Ultimately, that one conversation with his Professor finally made him believe it wasn't his fault. It made him truly believe it. The only one to blame had been Voldemort. It was like a weight had been lifted afterwards and Harry would be eternally grateful. Oddly, Harry thought Snape would have made a kick ass therapist.

It was about a week before school began when they received the news. Snape had been in his study for most of the day when he suddenly came out looking as frustrated as Harry had ever seen him.

"I'm sending you home," he said without any preamble and Harry stared at him in shock. What had he done wrong?

"Why?" he sputtered out, managing to get up off the couch without falling back onto it. He didn't understand. Things had been going so well. Hell, he liked Snape. That wasn't even supposed to be possible. He thought Snape returned those feelings. "Did I do something wrong?" Harry followed Snape into his bedroom as the man started gathering his belongings and throwing them into his trunk.

Harry thought back on the past few days, trying to figure out how he'd screwed up so badly. "Look, I'm sorry," he apologized, coming up behind Snape, twisting his fingers together anxiously.

Snape dropped the overlarge t-shirt he'd been gathering and spun around to the boy. Harry flinched back but the man merely grabbed him by his shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Do not be an idiot."

That stung and Harry was appalled to feel his eyes prickling like he would cry. Snape's face suddenly changed from one of frustration to one of dismayed concern. "Harry, I'm not trying to get rid of you," he suddenly said.

Harry was beyond confused. "Then what are you doing?" he asked, cringing at the hoarseness of his voice. "I thought we were…" he paused, not knowing what to call it. He had thought Snape actually cared about him, but he didn't want to voice it in case he was delusional about the entire thing. "Friends," he finished lamely. When what he really wanted was someone to care for him as a son.

Snape really smiled for the first time that Harry could ever remember. "We are friends, Harry. That's why I'm trying to get you out of here. I want you where you'll be safe."

Harry scoffed. "How is being with my relatives safe? I'd be safer here! What's going on?" he asked, trying to reign in his growing hysteria. He couldn't go home.

"There have been sightings in the village. Death Eaters are nearby and to top it all off, someone released Kirkpatrick from jail," said Snape slowly, staring into Harry's eyes as the realization set in.

"Oh," he muttered resignedly. Snape wouldn't let him stay here, not with what was going on. "Hogwarts?" he questioned, vainly hoping for some kind of respite. Surely he wouldn't have to go home.

"No, you'll be safest at your relatives. No one is currently at the castle and the wards at your home are unattainable for the Dark Lord."

"What about the wards around us now?" Harry tried one last time.

Snape sighed and gently took Harry's face into his hands, raising his chin until the boy's eyes were level with his own. "The wards surrounding my home can not compare to those around the Dursley's."

Harry sighed, accepting his defeat. But he had one last desperate question. "Can you come and get me when it's safe?" he asked, wondering if he even would, considering it was so close to the new school term.

"I'll see what I can do, Harry," was the man's only response. And in Harry's experiences that meant no.

……………………………………….

The Dursley's were less than pleased at his return. And that was an understatement. They had been expecting a full summer without Harry to mar their plans. Now they had to put up with their nephew for an entire week. The horror.

Harry discovered that Dudley had a friend staying with them for the past few weeks. Harry had never met him before but realized soon enough why he and Dudley were such good friends. His name was Jared. No one ever bothered to tell him what his last name was and Harry frankly didn't care. Jared was sleeping in the spare bedroom so Harry was dumped in the basement for the remainder of the holiday. And, as fate would have it, it was this month that the nights dropped to unseasonably record lows.

The first night back, Harry had tried to sneak up to his bedroom to snitch a blanket, but when the door creaked open he saw that Jared had both the blankets laying neatly atop him. At second glance, Harry realized the boy's eyes were wide open and staring at him.

"Do you need one of these?" the boy asked.

Harry nodded gratefully and stepped further into the room. "Yeah, it's freezing down there."

"Well, too bad. Dudley told me all about you, Potter. Don't expect me to help you, either," he said angrily.

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise. What the heck had Dudley told him that had him so angry with a kid he didn't even know? His shock turned to anger then and he stalked out of the room. Great, he'd freeze before the week was through. At least this time he didn't have to endure their blatant disregard for his well being for the entire three months.

The next day his Uncle Vernon was his usual charming self. "Get your lazy arse outside and weed that garden! Have you seen how overgrown it's become?!" he yelled and Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. The only person to blame for that was the fat pig himself. Or more likely his aunt, considering she did the housework while he was away.

Outside in the garden, Harry realized it wasn't as bad as Vernon had made out. His Uncle probably just wanted him out of the house. And why was it that it got so cold at night when it was so hot in the day? Stripping off his t-shirt, Harry headed out to the shed to retrieve the tools he'd need for gardening. Once accomplished, he went to work, pulling up weeds and replanting the flowers he accidentally mutilated. Some didn't look too bad. Others had to be buried where his Aunt Petunia would never find them and have cause to throw a frying pan at his head.

Right as he was finishing up, his Uncle came out and instructed him that the lawn needing mowing. Harry looked at it and sighed. From the looks of things, it had just been done last week. Again, they were trying to keep him as far away from the rest of the family as possible. Too bad they couldn't send him to the store or something indoors. It was bloody hot out there.

By the end of the day Harry was parched and hungry. They hadn't once had him come inside and any time he tried, they threw him back out. The only good thing to come of it was he hadn't had to cook dinner.

Three days later and Harry resorted to sneaking upstairs in the middle of the night to steal food from the cabinets and refrigerator. He was starving and the minute gulps of water from the outside hose weren't helping. He also thought he was getting sick. His throat was scratchy and raw and he'd sneezed at least three times since he'd come upstairs. Trying to stifle them was hard and he hoped to God that no one heard him.

He risked going upstairs to the bathroom to see if he could find any cough syrup in the medicine cabinet. He hoped that would soothe his throat. Cough drops would be nice too, but he couldn't remember seeing any in the house before he'd left for school the year prior. Odds were they didn't have any on hand. "What are you doing?"

Harry spun around and saw Jared standing in the doorway of the bathroom. "I'm going to the bathroom," he said, indicating the toilet with a look on his face that clearly told Jared he thought he was stupid. "What else would I be doing?"

"You're not supposed to even be up here," spat the teenager. "Maybe I'll go wake up your aunt and uncle, eh?"

Knowing he would regret it, Harry immediately started begging. If his aunt and uncle woke up, it wouldn't be pleasant. "No, please don't. You'll get me in trouble!" he hissed out. "I'll just go back down now. They don't have to know."

But Harry could tell by the spiteful look on Jared's face that he wasn't going to let it go. "Damn," he muttered under his breath.

"Ooh, and cursing as well are we?" he sang out happily as he walked down the hallway to his aunt and uncle's room. Harry wanted nothing more than to knock the smug grin off the jerk's face. And then to make his situation worse, Dudley stepped into the hallway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"What are you doing up?" he asked Jared, having not seen Harry yet.

"Getting your cousin in trouble," he answered spitefully.

Dudley looked down the hallway then and caught sight of Harry still standing in front of the bathroom door. His cousin's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "Mum! Dad!" he yelled at the top of his voice. Harry cringed. He was in so much trouble now.

Petunia and Vernon came flying out of their bedroom, glancing quickly at their son to make sure he was okay. "What is it Dudders?" asked his aunt in a surgery sweet tone that made Harry want to puke.

Dudley merely looked down the hallway.

"Potter!"

…………………………………………..

Harry was pretty sure his arm was no longer in its socket. It hurt worse than he thought possible and the cold stone floor of the basement making him shiver every five seconds only made the pain more intense and throbbing. He leaned up against the equally cold stone wall and tried to curl up into a ball as best as he could without hurting his arm more. Miserable and cold and in pain and knowing he would have to endure for two more days was agony. The idea of waiting two days to have his arm reset made him grit his teeth knowing it would be worse then. They might even have to do surgery or whatever it was they did to fix an arm out of socket for too long. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

It wasn't easy, but eventually Harry drifted off to sleep against the cold wall. He woke sporadically, having jarred his arm or becoming too cold to stay asleep. During one of these times he thought he heard someone walking around upstairs in the kitchen. Figuring it was Dudley up for a late night snack, the freaking lard, Harry tried to go back to sleep. That failed spectacularly when he suddenly had to cough. He grimaced in anticipation. This would make his arm hurt worse, he was sure.

When Harry coughed, it sounded horrible, a raspy hoarse sound that not only tore up his throat but the movement jarred his arm so badly he couldn't stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks. He just wanted it to stop.

When the basement door suddenly opened, Harry looked up the stairs only minutely aware enough to care. All his thoughts were on the suffering he was currently enduring.

The person on the stairs suddenly descended them rapidly. The shape was taller than either teenager currently residing upstairs, so Harry groaned in despair as he realized it must be his Uncle. His coughing was probably too loud or some such other nonsense.

"Potter?"

Harry looked up in shock as the tall figure cut through the shadows of the room and stepped into the flash of light that was coming from the street lamp outside the window. "Professor Snape?" he called, his eyes widening in hope. He'd come! Harry had given up the expectation for that to happen before he'd even left Snape's home. He tried to get up, momentarily forgetting his predicament, and tried to use his injured arm to balance himself with on the wall. The pain lanced up his shoulder and he cried out in agony, slumping back to the floor and cradling his arm to himself protectively.

More tears cascaded down his cheeks as he tried to get his gasping breaths back under control. That had hurt. Very badly. Snape was suddenly at his side, kneeling down beside him on the floor. He took in Harry's appearance and cringed. The boy looked like death warmed over.

"What happened? Where are you hurt?" he asked, his hands reaching out for the arm Harry was currently guarding with his life.

"No, don't touch it!" cried Harry.

Snape yanked his hands back as if burned. "Harry I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong," he said calmly enough, though Harry thought he heard a touch of anxiousness in the man's voice.

Harry moaned miserably. "I-I think my shoulder's out of its socket," he said falteringly, the pain still pulsing through him making him feel sick. "Can you fix it?"

"When did this happen?" asked Snape, his tone suddenly clinical.

Harry glanced up at him. "Earlier tonight," he muttered, taking in deep breaths to try and ease the pain. As if that would help.

"Brace yourself," said Snape suddenly before he grabbed Harry's arm and forcibly reset the shoulder into the socket. Harry screamed into his Professor's chest. Immediately afterwards he felt two strong arms wrap around him and pull him close. "I'm sorry, Harry. Everything is all right, just take deep breaths," he was instructed, so Harry did as he was told, dragging the breaths in shatteringly. That had hurt like hell.

Leaning on Snape heavily, Harry glared weakly up at him. "You could have warned me," he said tiredly.

"I believe I did," returned Snape, concern still clear in his eyes. "Can you move your arm?"

Harry hesitantly rotated his shoulder and raised his arm up and down to gauge how much movement he had. He was a little surprised to find that he could move his arm. The pain had diminished, though his shoulder was still very sore. "Thanks," he said timidly.

Snape nodded before helping Harry to his feet. "Can you make it upstairs?" he asked, wrapping an arm around the boy's waist in support.

"I think so," he said, his legs shaking a bit beneath him.

"Are we going back, then?" he asked, referring to Snape's home.

Snape nodded as he got a better grip around the boy's waist. "Did I not say I would come and get you once it was safe?"

Harry shrugged in consent. Considering Harry had thought Snape wouldn't show at all, he was more than pleased that he followed through on his promise. "What about Kirkpatrick and the Death Eaters? They're gone then?"

"Yes," Snape quickly explained. "It was Kirkpatrick's large mouth that got them here in the first place. He spoke of you in jail and some unsavory characters overheard. They broke him out hoping he would lead them all straight to you," his tone indicated just how disgusted he was with the man he had once considered a friend. "Unfortunately for him, my wards sent him on a wild goose chase as I'm sure you remember."

Harry glanced up at him. "When I tried to run away and I kept going in circles?"

"Exactly that."

"The Death Eaters must have been pissed," he said, not feeling the least bit sorry for Kirkpatrick. The little jerk had it coming.

"Don't say pissed, Harry," chided Snape and Harry grinned tiredly.

They were half-way to the stairs when Harry felt his legs give out. "Whoa," he exclaimed softly, grabbing hold of Snape's shirt to catch himself.

Snape lifted him back to his feet and kept both arms around him so Harry wouldn't fall to the floor. "It appears you are suffering from more than just a dislocated shoulder," he said stoically. "Where else are you hurt?" he asked, his tone making Harry wonder if he was getting angry.

"I'm not hurt. I just haven't had much to eat," he explained, his grip on Snape's shirt increasing when a wave of dizziness struck him.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Harry thought about it. The last descent meal he'd eaten had been at the Professor's home. Harry was fairly certain Snape didn't want to know that. But, Snape was smart enough to figure it out on his own and Harry wasn't keen on getting in more trouble with him. Hopefully, Snape would take him back home with him. If he behaved.

"Technically, not since you sent me home," he answered hesitantly.

Snape snapped his head down to meet Harry's eyes. "Four days? Why have you not eaten?" he asked harshly.

Harry cringed. "I didn't have much of a choice!" he replied angrily. "They've kept me down here all the time. I snuck out at first to steal a few bites of whatever I could get my hands on. But after they caught me trying to get some cough syrup from the upstairs bathroom, they locked me in so I couldn't get out."

Snape's gaze never wavered from Harry's eyes and it made him a bit nervous. "Are you angry?" asked Harry.

"Of course I'm angry," said Snape incredulously. "They've starved you, hurt you, and denied you help for your obvious cold. Anger does not even begin to describe how I feel towards them right now."

Instead of helping Harry up the stairs, Snape suddenly swept the boy up into his arms and ascended the stairs like a dark cloud. In order to keep his balance, Harry wrapped his arm around Snape's back and held on. He'd never seen the man look so angry. Well, except for when he'd walked in on Kirkpatrick strangling him. He'd been pretty angry then, too.

Bursting through the basement door, Harry was stunned to see his Uncle standing in the kitchen with a rifle in his hand.

"Uncle?" he asked disbelievingly. "What are you doing?" Trying to regain his feet was pointless, Snape wouldn't release him, so Harry stayed put.

Vernon pointed with the barrel of the rifle at Harry. "I heard you screaming and then I heard his voice," he indicated with the rifle at Snape then. "I won't have more of you freaks in my house! Now get the hell out or I'll blow your head off!"

Harry was scared. Snape wouldn't know what a rifle could do to him. "Professor, you have to go! Now!" he struggled then to get out of the protective arms holding him. "Put me down and leave!" he yelled, wriggling more to break free.

Momentarily, Snape released his legs and Harry's lower body drifted to the floor. He thought Snape was actually going to leave him. Harry felt that his heart had been stabbed when he thought that the man would actually comply, even though he was yelling at the man to leave. He had hoped Snape would take him with him.

But Snape still had one arm wrapped protectively around Harry's shoulders, keeping him pulled tight against his side. In his other hand he had withdrawn his wand and had it pointed at his Uncle's chest.

"Put that…that stick down!" yelled Vernon, shoving the end of the rifle at Snape's head. "I mean it!"

Professor Snape smiled grimly. "I can assure you that this 'stick' can do a lot more damage to you than your weapon could do to me," he stated menacingly. "Now why don't you lower it while you still have the option."

Just by looking at his Uncle's face, Harry could tell he wasn't going to lower the rifle. In fact, Harry was pretty sure he was seconds away from firing it. This wasn't good. What if Snape really got hurt? He couldn't let that happen.

Harry cautiously leaned forward and met his Uncle's gaze. "I'll get him to leave, Uncle Vernon, I swear it. Please, just put down your gun and I'll get him out of here. I promise!"

Vernon looked at his nephew and could see the boy was frightened. It was because of this that he knew Harry would do as he claimed. The boy was always more cooperative when he was scared. He didn't lower the rifle, but he took a step back and nodded at the boy. "You get him out of here, Potter. Then you get your hide back in here! You're not out of trouble yet!"

Professor Snape shook his head angrily and pulled Harry back behind him. Within an instant he'd summoned the rifle and held it gripped tightly in his hand. Harry could tell Snape didn't know how to hold it correctly and he was worried the man would accidentally shoot his foot off or something. He took the rifle away from him and unloaded it before throwing it across the room. He put the ammunition in his pocket.

"You! What did you do!?" screamed Vernon, inching towards the kitchen, probably to get the knife that was still lying out from dinner earlier that evening. The dinner Harry hadn't been allowed to have.

Snape sighed in annoyance. "Stupify," he said calmly, and the exceedingly large man with down with a shuddering thud.

"What did you do to my husband!!" shrieked a high-pitched voice from behind them.

Harry snickered when Snape rolled his eyes in exasperation. "If your husband hadn't pointed a weapon at myself and your own nephew!" he emphasized unhappily, "then I wouldn't have had to resort to restraining him…as it were."

Petunia didn't understand what had been done to her husband, only that it had been done magically. "You take it off of him! You take it off right now!"

"I'll do no such thing. Your husband is dangerous and shouldn't be allowed around children," he said, motioning with his hand the two teenagers who were standing behind her.

His aunt looked disgusted. "He would never hurt _them!_" she yelled hatefully.

Snape's eyes narrowed into slits. "No, he only hurts his nephew. A child placed under his care! A child who you were both supposed to nurture and care for! Not starve, abuse, and lock in a cold, dark room!" he bellowed, seemingly becoming larger as his anger increased.

Crossing her arms across her chest in indignation, Petunia scowled at the frightening man in her kitchen. "You don't understand what he's like! If he lived with you, if you had to put up with his appalling behavior, you'd do the same thing!"

Snape glowered at her while Harry flinched. "Where do you think the boy has been staying these past few months?" he asked menacingly.

She swallowed thickly and took another step back. "I thought he was at his s-school for an extended summer education," she said hesitantly.

"Hardly. The boy has been staying with me. And not once has his behavior caused me to want to harm him in any way. And believe me, the boy has tried my patience on more than one occasion," he said, glancing down at the boy in question and noticing that Harry was staring at him with a slight appreciative smile on his face.

"If he's such a delight to live with, as you seem to believe, why don't you keep him then!?" spat Petunia, keeping her distance from the frightening looking man with the wand. "We certainly don't want him!"

Even though he'd known it for years and had been told repeatedly the same thing, it somehow made it more real now that she'd spoken it in front of someone he knew. Someone whose opinion he valued. Would Snape feel the same? Or was he actually speaking the truth.

Snape growled low in his throat. "You disgust me. The entire lot of you. How could you know this child and say such hideous things about him?"

Petunia smirked. "You don't know him well enough. Just wait and see," she answered knowingly. "You'll understand soon enough."

"You would allow me to take him under my guardianship, then?" asked the Professor.

"Yes!" returned Petunia ecstatically. "Take him!" She was nearly bouncing on her feet in her excitement to get rid of the bane of their existence for so many years.

Professor Snape grabbed Harry's hand then and Harry instinctively intertwined his fingers into Snape's. "Very well. I'll have Headmaster Dumbledore stop by tomorrow morning to discuss this with you and to deal with your husband."

Petunia paled drastically. "Dumbledore?" she asked, suddenly looking frightened. Harry wondered how she knew him.

"Yes. Have a lovely evening," he added sarcastically as he gathered Harry towards the door. He stopped suddenly having remembered something. "You'll give the Headmaster Harry's things as well," he instructed as he shut the door in the ugly woman's face.

…………………………….

"You don't mind keeping me?" asked Harry timidly when they returned to Snape's home. Light was just filtering in through the windows making Harry wonder where the night had gone. He was exhausted without having gotten much sleep the night before. It had been a busy evening.

Severus glanced at him contemplatively. "Do you mind that I keep you?" he asked, turning the question around on the boy.

Harry sputtered. "Well, I d-don't know," he said seriously. It was one thing to spend the summer with the man, it was an entirely different thing to live there permanently. "I guess it depends on your answer to my question." He stared at Snape pensively. "I'm not an easy person to get along with. I don't want to become a burden on you as I did with the Dursley's. They hated me for it. I mean, I want to be happy here. And that won't happen if you still hate me. I…I can't live the way I did with my relatives. So, if you think you might treat me like they did, or even the way you treat me at school, on a daily basis…well, I'd rather go somewhere else," he explained shakily.

He waited solemnly for Snape's reply, bracing himself for getting kicked out, though he was terrified to think about where he would end up.

Severus sat on the couch and invited Harry to sit beside him. "I think we should talk for a moment," he said instead of answering Harry's question. This only proved to make the boy even more nervous.

"Okay," he shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the couch. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I thought that would be obvious," he started, patting the seat next to him as Harry had yet to sit down. "You residing with me permanently. It's something I wouldn't mind, and considering your startling lack of any prior parental guidance, I thought it would be wise to discuss it."

"Are you thinking this completely through?" asked Harry skeptically. "I mean, did you listen to my aunt Petunia? She has _lived_ with me for years and years. My aunt and uncle...well, you saw. Neither one of them could stand me. You should really consider this thoroughly before you decide."

"Harry, I'm not going to want to get rid of you. Your aunt and uncle have made you feel like you're a burden and that is simply untrue. I enjoy your company and would be quite pleased if you decided to let me keep you."

Harry smiled shyly, those last words that Snape had spoken somehow making him feel more cared for than anything else. Knowing the man wanted him to move in and become his son, as it were, it just felt wonderful. He was just afraid to let his guard down.

"We can give it a test run, if that would ease your fears," suggested Snape. "If by the time next summer rolls around you don't feel completely comfortable with me, we can come up with some other solution."

"But, I'll be in school. How am I going to get to know you as anything more than my Professor? I mean, you've never been nice to me before during classes or even just when you've come across me in the hallways or the Great Hall. Are you going to keep doing that? Because that won't help, you know," Harry pointed out questioningly; pulling his knees up to his chest self consciously.

Snape was looking at him regretfully. "That was an act I had to put on for the benefit of some of the less than noble students in Hogwarts. Some of their parents are Death Eaters, as I'm sure you've ascertained. It's imperative that they not know my true allegiances."

Harry frowned, his brows furrowing as he considered what the man had said. "Well, if that's the case, then how is this even going to work?" he looked down at his lap feeling let down already. This would never work out, not if Snape still had to put on that he was an evil Death Eater.

A gentle hand wrapped around his own smaller one and Harry looked up to notice that Snape had leaned forward and was looking into his eyes. "I can assure you that the Headmaster and I are quite able to ensure our meetings are kept secret."

"Meetings?" Harry wasn't sure what his Professor was talking about.

"Yes, I thought you could join me for dinner or breakfast, whichever meal you prefer, so we could talk to each other. Get to know each other better," he explained patiently. "If meal times aren't acceptable, any time we both find free then…I would greatly enjoy your company if you would like to visit."

Still looking depressed, Snape gripped the boy's hand tighter. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry sighed deeply. "Well, what happens if you do decide to…adopt me, or whatever. I'm not going to feel comfortable if you get summoned by Voldemort!"

The hand on his own momentarily released him before gripping him tighter. "You worry about what I will have to do?" he asked stoically.

Rolling his eyes skyward, Harry shifted his hands so that his fingers could intertwine with Snape's. "No. Well, yes, but I'm more concerned about what could happen to you if it were discovered you had adopted me. They would kill you!"

Snape nodded, though it was more likely they would try to use that information to try and get to Harry. And he would never let that happen. All the more reason for him to stay near the boy and keep him safe from the harm they would no doubt descend upon him.

"We have no way of knowing what will happen, Harry, but I promise you to do my best at keeping you safe. We both will play a part in what's to come and neither of us will be entirely out of danger. I prefer we stick together. We'll have a better chance that way," he said quietly, his eyes delving deep into Harry's soul. "What's your opinion? Will you stay?"

It was worth the try. So Harry made his decision. If things didn't work out, at least he'd given it a go. And he wanted someone to care for him and wanted to care for Snape in return. He wanted a father. "Yes," he finally answered, making Severus' lips turn up in the hint of smile. "I'll stay."

…………………………………………

The End

A/N: Sorry for the massive delay on the final chapter, peeps. I know this probably isn't the most ideal place to end the story, but I've really just run out of ideas. I'd also like to start on another story in my SIB universe. I know I said I wouldn't, but now I'm probably going to.

Shoonasasi, I hope you liked your story! It's been almost a year since I started this for you! Happy Halloween!


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